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An old Man's Blessing. Page 126. 




By max ADELER 




Copyright, i88i, 
By Chas. Heber Clark. 

All Rights Reserved. 


The custom which has ordained that a book 
shall have a preface is useful enough to writers 
who have to say to their readers something which 
could not properly be said in the body of the text ; 
but it imposes a burden upon those who have no 
such communication to make. The author of the 
present volume considers that he may fairly per- 
form the task by remarking that if the tales herein 
contained are not so amusing as others he has 
written, they will perhaps be found to be quite as 
entertaining, and possibly, in some particulars, 
more instructive. If they shall be received by the 
public with the favor that was found by the preced- 
ing volumes, the author will have reason to con- 
gratulate himself that they have achieved success 
of a somewhat remarkable character. 

Max Adeler. 




The Fortunate Island 9 

The City of Burlesque 107 

An Old Fogy 221 

Major Dunwoody's Leg 252 

Jinnie 311 






HEN the good ship "Morning Star," 
bound to Liverpool from New York, 
foundered at sea, the officers, the crew, 
and all of the passengers but two, escaped in the 
boats. Professor E. L. Baffin and his daughter, 
Matilda Baffin, preferred to intrust themselves to 
a patent india-rubber life-raft, which the Professor 
was carrying with him to Europe, with the hope 
that he should sell certain patent rights in the con- 

There was time enough, before the ship sank, to 
inflate the raft and to place upon it all of the 
trunks and bundles belonging to the Professor and 
Matilda. These were lashed firmly to the rubber 
cylinders, and thus Professor Baffin was encour- 
aged to believe that he might save from destruc- 



tion all of the scientific implements and apparatus 
which he had brought with him from the VVingo- 
hocking University to illustrate the course of lec- 
tures which he had engaged to give in England 
and Scotland. 

Having made the luggage fast, the Professor 
handed Matilda down from the ship's side, and 
when he had tied her to one of the trunks and 
secured himself to another, he cut the raft adrift, 
and, with the occupants of the boats, sorrowfully 
watched the brave old " Morning Star " settle 
down deeper and deeper into the water ; until at 
last, with a final plunge, she dipped beneath the 
surface and disappeared. 

The prospect was a cheerless one for all of the 
party. The sea was not dangerously rough ; but 
the captain estimated that the nearest land was at 
least eight hundred miles distant ; and, although 
there were in the boats and upon the raft pro- 
visions and water enough for several days, the 
chance was small that a port could be made be- 
fore the supplies should be exhausted. There was, 
moreover, almost a certainty that the boats would be 
swamped if they should encounter a severe storm. 

The Professor, for his part, felt confident that 
the raft would outlive any storm ; but his ship- 
mates regarded his confidence in it as an indication 
of partial insanity. 

The captain rested his expectations of getting 


ashore chiefly upon the fact that they were in the 
line of greatest travel across the Atlantic, so that 
they might reasonably look to meet, within a day 
or two, with a vessel of some kind which would 
rescue them. 

As the night came on, it was agreed that the 
boats and the raft should keep together, and the 
captain had provided a lantern, which was swung, 
lighted, aloft upon an oar, so that the position of 
his boat could be determined. The Professor, with 
his raft under sail, steered along in the wake of the 
boats for several hours, Matilda, meanwhile, sleep- 
ing calmly, after the exciting and exhausting labors 
of the day, upon a couple of trunks. 

As the night wore on, a brisk wind sprang up, 
and shortly afterward the light upon the captain's 
boat for some reason disappeared. The Professor 
was somewhat perplexed when he missed it, but he 
concluded that the safest plan would be to steer 
about upon the course he had hitherto held, and 
then to communicate with the boats if they should 
be within sight in the morning. 

The wind increased in force about midnight, and 
the raft rolled and pitched in such a manner that 
the Professor's faith in it really lost some of its 
force. Several times huge waves swept over it, 
drenching the Professor and his daughter, and fill- 
ing them with grave apprehensions of the result if 
the storm should become more violent. 


Even amid the peril, however, Professor Baffin 
could not but admire the heroic courage and com- 
posure of Matilda, who sat upon her trunk, wet 
and shivering with cold, without showing a sign of 
fear, but trying to encourage her father with words 
of hope and cheer. 

When the dawn came, dim and gray, the gale 
abated its force, and although the sea continued 
rough, the raft rode the waves more buoyantly and 
easily. Producing some matches from his water- 
proof box, the Professor lighted the kerosene-lamp 
in the tiny stove which was in one of the boxes ; 
and then Matilda, with water from the barrel, be- 
gan to try to make some coffee. The attempt 
seemed to promise to be successful, and while the 
process was going on, the Professor looked about 
for the boats. They could not be seen. The Pro- 
fessor took out his glass and swept the horizon. 
In vain ; the boats had disappeared completely ; 
but the Professor saw something else that attracted 
his attention, and made his heart for a moment 
stop beating. 

Right ahead, not distinctly outlined, but visible in 
a misty sort of way, he thought he discerned 

At first he could not believe the evidence of his 
sight. The captain, an expert navigator, had as- 
sured him that they were eight hundred miles from 
any shore. But this certainly looked to the Pro- 


fessor very much like land. He examined it through 
his glass. Even then the view was not clear enough 
to remove all doubts, but it strengthened his con- 
viction ; and when Matilda looked she said she 
knew it was land. She could trace the outline of a 
range of hills. 

" Tilly," said the Professor, " we are saved ! It is 
the land, and the raft is drifting us directly towards 
it. We cannot be sufficiently thankful, my child, 
for this great mercy ! Who would have expected 
it ? Taken altogether, it is the most extraordinary 
circumstance within my recollection." 

" Captain Duffer must have made a miscalcula- 
tion," said Tilly. " The ship must have been off 
of her course when she sprang a leak." 

" It is incomprehensible how so old a sailor could 
have made such a blunder," replied the Professor. 
" But there the land is ; I can see it now distinctly. 
It looks to me like a very large island." 

" Are you going ashore at once, pa ? " 

" Certainly, dear ; that is, if we can make a land- 
ing through the breakers." 

" Suppose there are cannibals on it, pa } It would 
be horrid to have them eat us ! " 

" They would have to fatten us first, darling ; 
and that would give us an opportunity to study 
their habits. It would be extremely interesting ! '' 

" But the study would be of no use if they should 
eat us ! " 


" All knowledge is useful, Tilly ; I could write 
out the results of our observations, and probably 
set them adrift in a bottle ! " 

" It is such a dreadful death ! " 

" Try to look at it philosophically ! There is 
really nothing more unpleasant about the idea of 
being digested than there is about the thought of 
being buried." 

" O, pa ! " 

" No, my child ! It is merely a sentiment. If I 
shall be eaten, and we have volition after death, I 
am determined to know how I agreed with the man 
who had me for dinner ! Tilly, I have a notion 
that you would eat tender ! " 

" Pa, you are simply awful ! " 

"To me, indeed, there is something inspiring in 
the thought that my physical substance, when I 
have done with it, should nourish the vitality of 
another being. I don't like to think that I may be 

" You seem as if you rather hoped we should find 
savage cannibals upon the island ! " 

" No, Tilly ; I hope we shall not. I believe we 
shall not. Man-eaters are rarely found in this lati- 
tude. My impression is that the island is not in- 
habited at all. Probably it is of recent volcanic 
origin. If so, we may have a chance to examine 
a newly-formed crater. I have longed to do so for 


" We might as well be eaten as to be blown up 
and burned up by a volcano," said Matilda. 

" It would be a grand thing, though, to be per- 
mitted to observe, without interruption, the opera- 
tion of one of the mightiest forces of nature ! I could 
make a magnificent report to the Philosophical So- 
ciety about it ; that is, if we should ever get home 

" For my part," said Matilda, " I hope it contains 
neither cannibals nor volcanoes ; I hope it is sim- 
ply a charming island without a man or a beast 
upon it." 

" Something like Robinson Crusoe's, for example ! 
I have often thought I should like to undergo his 
experiences. It must be, to an inquiring mind, 
exceedingly instructive to observe in what manner 
a civilized man, thrown absolutely upon his own 
resources, contrives to conduct his existence. I 
could probably enrich my lecture upon Sociology 
if we should be compelled to remain upon the 
island for a year or two." 

" But we should starve to death in that time ! " 

" So we should ; unless, indeed, the island pro- 
duces fruits of some kind from its soil. I think it 
does. It seems to be covered with trees, Tilly, 
doesn't it ? " 

" Yes," said Matilda, looking through the glass. 
'' It is a mass of verdure. It is perfectly beautifu). I 
believe I see something that looks like a building, too." 


"Impossible! you see a peculiar rock formation, 
no doubt ; I shan't be surprised if there is enough 
in the geological formation of the island to engage 
my attention so long as we remain." 

" But what am I to do, meantime ? " 

"You."* Oh, you can label my specimens and 
keep the journal ; and maybe you might hunt 
around for fossils a little yourself." 

The raft rapidly moved toward the shore, and 
the eyes of both of the voyagers were turned to- 
ward it inquiringly and eagerly. Who could tell 
how long the island might be their home, and what 
strange adventures might befall them there ? 

"The wind is blowing right on shore, Tilly," 
said the Professor. " I will steer straight ahead, 
and I shouldn't wonder if we could shoot the 
breakers safely. Isn't that a sand-beach right in 
front there ? " inquired the Professor, elevating his 
nose a little, to get his spectacles in focus. " It 
looks like one." 

" Yes, it is," replied Matilda, looking through her 

" First-rate ! Couldn't have been better. There, 
we will drive right in. Tilly, hoist my umbrella, so 
as to give her more sail ! " 

The raft fairly danced across the waves under 
the increased pressure, and in a moment or two it 
was rolling in the swell just outside of the line of 
white breakers. Before the Professor had time to 


think what he should do to avoid the shock, a huge 
wave uplifted the raft and ran it high upon the 
beach with such violence as to compel the Profes- 
sor to turn a somersault over a trunk. He recov- 
ered himself at once, and replacing his spectacles 
he proceeded, with the assistance of Matilda, to 
pull the raft up beyond the reach of the waves. 

Then, wet and draggled, with sand on his coat, 
and his hat knocked completely out of shape, he 
stood rubbing his chin with his hand, and thought- 
fully observing the breakers. 

" Extraordinary force, Tilly, that of the ocean 
surf, — clear waste, too, apparently. If we stay here 
long enough, I must try to find out the secret of its 

" Hadn't we better put on some dry clothing 
first?" suggested Miss Baffin, "and examine the 
surf afterwards } For my part I have had enough 
of it." 

" Certainly ! Have you the keys of the trunks ^ 
Everything soaking wet, most likely." 

When the trunks were unfastened, the Professor 
was delighted fo find that the contents were per- 
fectly dry. Selecting some clothing for himself, he 
went behind a huge rock and proceeded to dress. 
Matilda, after looking carefully about, retreated to 
a group of trees, and beneath their shelter made 
her toilette. 

" Isn't this a magnificent place .-• " said the Pro- 


fessor, when Matilda, nicely dressed, came out to 
where he was standing by the raft. 

" Perfectly lovely." 

" Noble trees, rich grass, millions of wild flowers, 
birds twittering above us, a matchless sky, a brac- 
ing air, and — why, halloa ! there's a stream of 
running water ! We must have a drink of that, 
the very first thing. Delicious, isn't it?" asked 
the Professor, when Miss Baffin, after drinking, 
returned the cup to him. 

"It is nectar." 

"I tell you what, Tilly, I am not sure that it 
wouldn't be a good thing to be compelled to live 
here for two or three years. The vegetation shows 
that we are in a temperate latitude, and I know I can 
find or raise enough to eat in such a place as this." 

" Why, pa, look there ! " 

" Where > " 

" Over there. Don't you see that castle .-' " 

" Castle ? No ! What ! Why, yes, it is ! Bless 
my soul, Tilly, the place is inhabited ! " 

" Who would have thought of finding a building 
like that on an island in mid-ocean .'* " 

"It is the most extraordinary circumstance, 
taking it altogether, that ever came under my ob- 
servation," said the Professor, looking towards the 
distant edifice. " So far as I can make out, it is a 
castle of an early period." 

" Mediaeval ? " 


"Well, not later than the seventh or eighth cen- 
tury, at the farthest. Tilly, I feel as if something 
remarkable was going to happen." 

" Pa, you frighten me ! " 

" No, I mean something that will be extraordina- 
rily interesting. I know it. The voice of instinct 
tells me so. Have you your journal with you .-* " 

"It is in the trunk." 

" Get it and your lead-pencils. We will drag the 
baggage further up from the water, and then we 
will push towards the castle. I am going to know 
the date of that structure before I sleep to-night." 

" There can hardly be any danger, I suppose .'' " 
suggested Miss Baffin, rather timidly. 

" Oh, no, of course not ; I have my revolver with 
me. Let me see ; where is it ? Ah, here. And 
the cartridges are waterproof. I think I will put a 
few things in a valise, also. We might find the 
castle empty, and have to depend upon ourselves 
for supper." 

The Professor then let the air out of the raft, 
and folded the flattened cylinders together. 

When the valise was ready, the Professor 
grasped it, shouldered his umbrella, and said, 
" Now, come, darling, and we will find out what all 
this means." 

The pair started along a broad path which ran 
by the side of the stream, following the course of 
the brook, and winding in and out among trees of 


huge girth and gigantic height. Birds of familiar 
species flitted from branch to branch before them, 
as if to lead them on their way ; now and then a 
brown rabbit, after eyeing them for a moment with 
quivering nostrils, beat a quick tattoo upon the 
ground with his hind legs, then threw up his tail 
and whisked into the shrubbery. Gra}^ squirrels 
scrambled around the trunks of the trees to look 
at them, and now and then a screaming, blue- 
crested kingfisher ceased his complaining while he 
plunged into one of the pools of the rivulet, and 
emerged with a trout in his talons. 

It was an enchanting scene ; and Miss Baffin 
enjoyed it thoroughly as she stepped blithely by 
the side of her father, who seemed to find especial 
pleasure in discovering that the herbage, the trees, 
the rocks, and all the other natural objects, were 
precisely like those with which he had been fa- 
mihar at home. 

After following the path for some time, the pair 
came to a place where the brook widened into a 
great pool, through which the water went slug- 
gishly, bearing upon its surface bubbles and froth, 
which told how it had been tossed and broken by 
rapid descents over the rocks in some narrow 
channel above. Here the Professor stopped to ob- 
serve an uncommonly large and green bullfrog, 
which sat upon a slimy stone a few yards away, 
looking solemnly at him. 


During the pause, they were startled to hear a 
voice saying to them, — 

" Good morrow, gentle friends." 

Matilda uttered a partly-suppressed scream, and 
even the Professor jumped backward a foot or two, 
in astonishment. 

Looking toward the place from which the voice 
came, they saw an old man with gray hair and 
beard lifting a large stone pitcher, which he had 
been filling from the pool. He was dressed in a 
long and rather loose robe, which reached from 
his shoulders to his feet, and which was gathered 
about his waist with a knotted cord. This was 
his entire costume, for his feet were bare, and he 
wore no hat to hide the rich masses of hair which 
fell to his shoulders. As he offered his salutation, 
he raised his pitcher until he stood upright, and 
then he looked at the Professor and Miss Baffin 
with a pleasant smile, in which there were traces 
of curiosity. 

" Good afternoon," returned the Professor, after 
a moment's hesitation ; "how are you .-'" 

" Are you not strangers in this land .-' " asked the 
old man. 

" Well, yes," said the Professor, briskly, with a 
manifest purpose to be sociable ; " we have just 
• come ashore down here on the beach. Ship- 
wrecked, in fact. This is my daughter. Let me 
introduce you. My child, allow me to make you 


acquainted with — with — beg pardon, but I think 
you did not mention your name." 

" I am known as Father Anselm." 

" Ah, indeed ! Matilda, this is Father Anselm. 
A clergyman, I suppose ? " 

" I am a hermit ; my cell is close at hand. You 
will be welcome there if you will visit it." 

"A hermit! Living in a cell! Well, this is 
surprising ! We shall be only too happy to visit 
you, if you will permit us. Delightful, isn't it, 
dear? We will obtain some valuable information 
from the old gentleman," 

The Hermit, with the pitcher poised upon his 
shoulder, led the way, and he was closely followed 
by the Professor and by Matilda, who regarded 
the proceeding rather with nervous apprehension. 
The Hermit's cell was a huge cave, excavated from 
the side of a hill. The floor was covered with 
sprigs of fragrant evergreens. A small table stood 
upon one side of the apartment ; beside it was a 
rough bench, which was the only seat in the room. 
A crucifix, a candle, a skull, an hour-glass, and a 
few simple utensils were the only other articles to 
be seen. 

The Hermit brought forward the bench for his 
visitors to sit upon, and then, procuring a cup, he 
offered each a drink of water. 

The Professor, hugging one knee with interlocked 
fingers, seemed anxious to open a conversation. 


" Pardon me, sir, but do I understand that you 
are a clergyman ; that is to say, some sort of a 
teacher of religion ? " 

" I belong to a religious order. I am a recluse," 

" Roman Catholic, I presume ? " said the Pro- 
fessor, glancing at the crucifix. 

" Your meaning is not wholly clear to me," re- 
plied the Hermit. 

" What are your views ? Do you lean to Calvin- 
ism, or do you think the Arminians, upon the 
whole, have the best of the argument ? " 

" The gentleman does not understand you, pa," 
said Miss Baffin. 

" Never mind, then ; we will not press it. But 
I should like very much if you would tell us some- 
thing about this place ; this country around here," 
said the Professor, waving his hand towards the 

" Let me ask first of the misadventure which 
cast you unwillingly upon our shores ? " said the 

" Well, you see, I sailed from New York on the 
twenty-third of last month, with my daughter here, 
to fulfil an engagement to deliver a course of lec- 
tures in England." 

" In England ! " exclaimed the Hermit, with an 
appearance of eager interest. 

" Yes, in England. I am a professor, you know, 
in an American university. When we were about 


half way across, the ship sprang a leak, from some 
cause now unknown. My daughter and I got off 
with our baggage upon a life-raft, which I most 
fortunately had with me. The rest of the passen- 
gers and the crew escaped in the boats. I be- 
came separated from them, and drifted here. That 
is the whole story." 

"I comprehend only a part of what you say," 
replied the Hermit. "But it is enough that you 
have suffered; I give you hearty welcome." 

." Thank you. And now tell me where I am." 

"You spoke of England a moment ago," said 
the Hermit. " Let me begin with it. Hundreds 
of years ago, in the time of King Arthur, of noble 
fame, it happened, by some means even yet not re- 
vealed to us, that a vast portion of that island 
separated from the rest, and drifted far out upon 
the ocean. It carried with it hundreds of people 
— noble, and gentle, and humble. This is that 

"lr\-deed!" exclaimed the Professor. "This.? 
This island that we are on .? Amazing ! " 

" It is true," responded the Hermit. 

" Why, Tilly, do you hear that .-' This is the lost 
Atlantis ! We have been driven ashore on the far- 
famed Fortunate Island ! Wonderful, isn't it .'' 
Taking every thing into consideration, I must say 
this certainly is the most extraordinary circum- 
stance I ever encountered ! " 


"Nobody among us has ever heard anything 
from England or of it, excepting through tradition. 
No ship comes to our shores, and those of us who 
have builded boats and gone away in search of 
adventure have never come back. Sometimes I 
think the island has not ended its wanderings, but 
is still floating about ; but we cannot tell." 

" But, my dear sir," said the Professor, " you can 
take your latitude and longitude at any time, can't 
you .? " 

"Take what?" 

" Your latitude and longitude ! Find out exactly 
in what part of the world you are .-' " 

" I never heard that such a thing was done. 
None of our people have that kind of learning." 

" Well, but you have schools and colleges, and 
you acquire knowledge, don't you .'* " 

" We have a few schools ; but only the low-born 
children attend them, and they are taught only 
what their fathers learned. We do not try to know 
more. We reverence the past. It is a matter of 
pride among us to preserve the habits, the man- 
ners, the ideas, the social state which our fore- 
fathers had when they were sundered from their 

" You live here pretty much as King Arthur and 
his subjects lived .-• " 

" Yes. We have our chivalry ; our knight er- 
rants ; our tournaments ; our castles : — everything 
just as it was in the old time." 


" My dear," said the Professor to Miss Baffin, 
" the wildest imagination could have conceived 
nothing like this. We shall be afforded an oppor- 
tunity to study the middle ages on the spot." 

" Sometimes," said the Hermit, gravely, " I have 
secret doubts whether our way is the best, 
whether in England and the rest of the world 
men may not have learned while we have remained 
ignorant ; but I cannot tell. And no one would be 
willing to change if we could know the truth." 

" My friend," said the Professor, with a look of 
compassion, " the world has gone far, far ahead of 
King Arthur's time ! It has almost forgotten that 
there ever was such a time. You would hardly be- 
lieve me, at any rate you would not understand me, 
if I should tell you of the present state of things in 
the world. But if I stay here I will try to en- 
lighten you gradually. I feel as I had been sent 
here as a missionary for that very purpose." 

" Do you come from England .-' " 

" Oh, no ! I was going thither. I came from 
the United States. You never heard of them, of 
course. They are a land right across the ocean 
from England, about three thousand miles." 

" Discovered by a man named Columbus," said 
Miss Baffin. 

" Your dress is an odd one," continued the Her- 
mit. " Are you a fighting man .-' " 

** A fighting man ! Oh, no, of course not. I'm 
a Professor." 


*'Then this is not a weapon that you carry." 

" Bless my soul, my dear sir ! Why, this is an 
umbrella ! Tilly, we have to deal with a very 
primitive condition of things here. It is both en- 
tertaining and instructive." 

" What is it for > " 

" I will show you. Suppose it begins to rain, I 
untie this string and open the umbrella, so / Now 
don't be alarmed ! It is perfectly harmless, I 
assure you ! " 

The holy man had retreated suddenly into the 
furthest recess of the cell. 

" While it rains I hold it in this manner. When 
it clears, I shut it up, t/iuSf and put it under my 

" Wonderful ! wonderful ! " exclaimed the Hermit. 
" I thought it was an implement of war. The 
world beyond us evidently has surpassed us." 

"This is nothing to the things I will show you," 
said the Professor. " I see you have an hour-glass 
here. Is this the only way you have of recording 
time ? " 

" We have the sun." 

" No clocks or watches .'' " 

" I do not know what they are." 

" Tilly, show him your watch. This is the ma- 
chine with which we tell time." 

"Alive, is it.''" asked the Hermit. 

The Professor explained the mechanism to him 
in detail. 


"You are indeed a learned man," said the re- 
cluse. "But I have forgotten a part of my duty. 
Will you not take some food .'' " 

" Well," said the Professor, " if you have any- 
thing about in the form of a lunch, I think I could 
dispose of it." 

''I am awfully hungry," said Miss Baffin. 

The Hermit produced a piece of meat, and hang- 
ing it upon a turnspit he gathered a few sticks and 
placed them beneath it. The Professor watched 
him closely ; and when the holy man took in his 
hands a flint and steel with which to ignite the 
wood, the Professor exclaimed, — 

" One moment ! Let me start that fire for 
you } " 

Taking from his pocket an old newspaper, he 
put it beneath the sticks ; then from his match-box 
he took a match, and striking it there was a blaze 
in a moment. 

The Hermit crossed himself and muttered a 
prayer at this performance. 

" No cause for alarm, I assure you," said the 

" You must be a wizard," said the Hermit. 

" No ; I did that with what we call a match ; like 
this one. There is stuff on the end which catches 
fire when you rub it," and the Professor again 
ignited a match. 

" I never could have dreamed that such a thing 


could be," exclaimed the recluse. "You will be 
regarded by our people as the most marvellous 
magician that ever lived." 

The Professor laughed, 

" Oh," said he, " I will let them know it is not 
magic. We must clear all that nonsense away. 
Tilly, I feel that duty points me clearly to the task 
of delivering a course of lectures upon this island." 

During the repast, the Hermit, looking timidly 
at Professor Baffin, said, — 

" Would it seem discourteous if I should ask you 
another question }" 

" Certainly not. I shall be glad to give you any 
information you may want." 

"What, then," inquired the Hermit, "is the 
reason why you protect your eyes with glass win- 
dows > " 

"These," said the Professor, removing his spec- 
tacles, "are intended to improve the sight. I 
cannot see well without them. With them I have 
perfect vision. Tilly, make a memorandum in the 
journal that my first lecture shall be upon Optics." 

" Pa, I wish we could learn something about the 
castle we saw," observed Miss Baffin. 

" Oh, yes ; by the way, Father Anselm," said the 
Professor, "we observed an old-fashioned castle 
over yonder, as we came here. Can you tell me 
anything about it .-' " 

" The castle," replied the Hermit, " is the home 


and the stronghold of Sir Bors, Baron of Lonazep. 
He is a great and powerful noble, much feared in 
this country." 

" Any family ? " inquired the Professor. 

" He has a gallant son, Sir Dinadan, as brave a 
knight as ever levelled lance, and a beautiful 
daughter, Ysolt. Both are unmarried ; but the fair 
Ysolt fondly loves Sir Bleoberis, to whom, how- 
ever, the Baron will not suffer her to be wedded, 
because Sir Bleoberis, though bold and skilful, has 
little wealth." 

" Human nature, you observe, my child, is the 
same everywhere. We have heard of something 
like this at home," remarked the Professor to his 

" Ysolt is loved also by another knight. Sir Dag- 
onet. He has great riches, and is very powerful ; 
but he is a bad and dangerous man, and the Baron 
will not consent to give him Ysolt to wife. These 
matters cause much strife and much unhappiness." 

" It's the same way with us," observed the Pro- 
fessor ; " I have known lots of such cases." 

" I hope we shall stay here long enough to see 
how it all turns out," said Miss Baffin. 

" Of course," replied the Professor. " You hated 
the island when you thought it might promote the 
interests of science. But some lovers' nonsense 
would keep you here willingly for life. Just like a 


** The King," said the Hermit, " has espoused 
the cause of Sir Bleoberis, and we hope he may 
win the lady for the knight whom she loves." 

" The King, eh ? Then you have a monarchical 
government ? " 

" We have eleven kings upon this island." 

" All reigning ? " 

" Yes." 

" How many people are there in the whole 
island ? " 

" No one knows, exactly. One hundred thou- 
sand, possibly." 

" Not ten thousand men apiece for the kings ! 
Humph ! In my country we have a million men 
in one town, and nobody but a common man to 
rule them." 

" Incredible ! " 

"And what is the name of your particular king, — 
the one who is lord of this part of the country ? " 

" King Brandegore ; a wise, and good, and val- 
iant monarch." 

"Tilly," said the Professor, "you might as well 
jot that down. Eleven kings on the island, and 
King Brandegore running this part of the govern- 
ment. I must get acquainted with him." 

When the meal was finished the Professor said 
to the recluse, — 

" Do you allow smoking ? " 

" Smoking ! " 


" Pray excuse me ! I forgot. If you will permit 
me, I will introduce you to another of the practices 
of modern civilization." 

Then the Professor lighted a cigar, and, sitting 
on the bench in a comfortable position, with his 
back against the wall of the cave, he began to puff 
out whiffs of smoke. 

The Hermit, with a look of alarm, was about to 
ask for an explanation of the performance, when 
loud cries were heard outside of the cave mingled 
with frightened exclamations from a woman. 

The occupants of the cavern started to their feet, 
just as a beautiful girl, dressed in a quaint but 
charming costume, ran into the doorway in such 
haste that she dashed plump up against the Pro- 
fessor, who caught her in his arms. 

For a moment she was startled at seeing two 
strangers in a place where she had thought to en- 
counter none but the Hermit ; but her dread of her 
pursuer overcame her diffidence, and, clinging to 
the Professor, she exclaimed, — 

" Oh, save me ! save me ! " 

" Certainly I will," said the Professor, soothingly, 
as his arm tightened its clasp about her waist, 
" What's the matter ? Don't be afraid, my child. 
Who is pursuing you ? " 

The Professor was not displeased at the situation 
in which he found himself. The damsel was fair 
to see, and the head which rested, in what seemed 


to him sweet confidence, upon his shoulder, was 
crowned with golden hair of matchless beauty. 
Even amid the intense excitement of the moment 
the reflection flashed through the Professor's mind 
that he was a widower, and that Matilda had 
always expressed a willingness to try to love a 

" My father ! The Baron ! He threatens to 
kill me," sobbed the maiden, and then, tearing her- 
self away from the Professor in a manner which 
struck him as being, to say the least, inconsiderate, 
she flew to Father Anselm and said, "You, holy 
father, will save me." 

• " I will try, my daughter ; I will try, replied the 
Hermit. And then, turning to the Professor he 
said, " It is Ysolt." 

" Ah ! " said the Professor, " the Baron's daugh- 
ter. May I ask you, miss, what the old gentleman 
is so excited about ? It is not one of the customs 
here for indignant parents to chase their children 
around the country, is it ? " 

"I had gone from the castle," said the damsel, 
partly to the Hermit and partly to Professor Baf- 
fin, " to meet Sir Bleoberis at the trysting-place. 
My father was watching me, and as I neared the 
spot he rushed toward me with a drawn sword, 
threatening to kill me." 

"It is an outrageous shame!" exclaimed the 
Professor, sympathetically. 


" I eluded him," continued the sobbing girl, " and 
flew towards this place. When he saw me at last 
he gave chase. I am afraid he will slay me when 
he comes." 

" I think, perhaps, I may be able to reason with 
this person when he arrives," said the Professor, 
rubbing his chin and looking at the hermit over the 
top of his spectacles. " The Baron ought to be 
ashamed of himself to go on in this manner ! Tilly, 
wipe the poor creature's eyes with your handker- 
chief. There now, dear, cheer up." 

Just then the Baron rushed into the cell, with 
his eyes flaming, and his breath coming short and 

He was a large man, with a handsome face, thick 
covered with beard. He was dressed in doublet, 
trunks and hose, and over one shoulder a mantle 
hung gracefully. His sword was in its sheath, and 
it was manifest that he had repented of his mur- 
derous purpose. 

" Where is that faithless girl ? " he demanded in 
a voice of thunder. 

Ysolt had hidden behind Matilda Baffin. 

" Say, priest, where have you secreted her .-' " 

" One moment ! " said the Professor, stepping 
forward. " May I, without appearing impertinent, 
offer a suggestion .-• " 

" Out, varlet ! " exclaimed the Baron, pushing 
him aside. " Tell me, Hermit, where is Ysolt." 


The Professor was actually pale with indigna- 
tion. Pushing himself in front of the Baron, and 
braridishing his umbrella in a determined way he 
said : 

" Old man, I want you to understand that you 
have to deal with a free and independent American 
citizen ! What do you mean by ' varlet .-' ' I hurl 
the opprobrious word back into your teeth, sir ! I 
am not going to put up with such conduct, I'd like 
you to know ! " 

The Baron for the first- time perceived what 
manner of man the Professor was, and he paused 
for a moment amid his rage to eye the stranger 
with astonishment. 

"Why do you want to hurt the young woman } 
Is this any way for an affectionate father to behave 
to his own offspring .-' Allow me to say, sir, that 
I'll be hanged if I think it is ! If you don't want 
her to marry Sir What's-his-name, don't let her; 
but it strikes me that charging around the country 
after her, and threatening to kill her, is an evidence 
that you don't understand the first principles of 
domestic discipline ! " 

" What do you mean ? Who are you .-' What 
are you doing here .-' " demanded the Baron, fiercely, 
recovering his self-possession. 

" I am Professor E. L. Baffin, of Wingohocking 
University ; and I mean to try to persuade you to 
treat your daughter more gently," said the Profes- 


sor, cooling as he remembered that the Baron had 
a father's authority. 

" You have a weapon. I will fight you," said the 
Baron, drawing his sword. 

The Professor put his cigar in his mouth, and 
opened his umbrella suddenly in the Baron's 

The Baron retreated a distance of twenty feet 
and looked scared. 

" Come," said the Professor, closing his umbrella 
and smiling, *' I am not a fighting man. We will 
not quarrel. Let us talk the matter over calmly." 

But the Baron, mortified because of the alarm 
that he had manifested, rushed savagely at the 
Professor, and would have felled him to the earth 
had not Matilda sprung forward and placed herself, 
shrieking, between the Baron and her father. 

At this precise juncture, also, a young man 
entered the cell, and, seeing the Baron apparently 
about to strike a woman, seized his sword-arm and 
held it. The Baron turned sharply about. Recog- 
nizing the youth as his son, he simply looked at 
him angrily, and then, while Miss Baffin clung to 
the Professor, the Baron seized Ysolt by the arm 
and led her weeping away. 

The Professor, after freeing himself from Miss 
Baffin's embrace, extended his hand to the youth, 
and said, — 

" I have not the honor of knowing you, sir, but 


you have behaved handsomely. Permit me to in- 
quire your name ? " 

" Sir Dinadan ; the son of the Baron," said the 
youth, taking hold of the Professor's hand, as if he 
were somewhat uncertain what he had better do 
with it. 

" No last name ? " asked the Professor. 

" That is all. And you are .■' — " 

" I am Everett L. Baffin, a Professor in the 
Wingohocking University. I was cast ashore 
down here with my daughter. Tilly, let me intro- 
duce to you Sir Dinadan." 

Sir Dinadan colored, and dropping upon his 
knee he seized Miss Baffin's hand and kissed it. 
Rising, he said : 

" What, Sir Baffin, is the name of the sweet 
lady ? " 


" How lovely ! " exclaimed Sir Dinadan. 

" It is abbreviated sometimes to Tilly, by her 

" It is too beautiful," said the youth, gazing at 
Miss Baffin with unconcealed admiration. " I 
trust. Sir Baffin, I may be able to serve in some 
manner you and the Lady Tilly." 

" Professor Baffin, my dear sir ; not Sir Baffin. 
Permit me to offer you my card." 

Sir Dinadan took the card, and seemed per- 
plexed as to its meaning. He turned it over and 
over in a despairing sort of way in his fingers. 


"If you will read it," said the Professor, "you 
will find my name upon it." 

"But, Sir Baffin, I cannot read." 

" Can't read ! " exclaimed the Professor, in 
amazement. " You don't mean to say that you 
have never learned to read ! " 

" High-born people," replied Sir Dinadan, with 
an air of indifference, " care nothing for learning. 
We leave that to the monks." 

"This," said the Professor to Miss Baffin, "is 
one of the most extraordinary circumstances that 
has yet come under my observation. Tilly, men- 
tion in your journal that the members of the upper 
classes are wholly illiterate." 

"As the Lady Tilly is a stranger here," said Sir 
Dinadan, " I would be glad to have her walk with 
me to the brow of the hill. I will show her our 
beautiful park." 

" That would be splendid ! " said Miss Baffin. 
" May I go, pa ? " 

" Well, I don't know," said the Professor, with 
hesitation, and looking inquiringly at the Hermit. 
As that individual appeared to regard the proposi- 
tion with no such feeling of alarm as would indicate 
a breach of ordinary social custom, the Professor 
continued, " Yes, dear, but be sure not to go 
beyond ear-shot." 

Sir Dinadan, smiling, led Miss Baffin away, and 
the Professor sat down to finish his cigar and to 


have some further conversation with the Hermit. 
Before he had time to begin, two other visitors ar- 
rived. Both were young men, gaily dressed in 
rich costume. One of them, whom the recluse 
greeted as Sir Bleoberis, had a tall slender figure 
and an exceedingly handsome countenance, which 
was adorned with a moustache and pointed beard. 
His companion, Sir Agravaine, was smaller, less 
comely, and if his face was an index of his mind, by 
no means so intelligent. 

After being presented to the Professor, whom 
they regarded with not a little curiosity, Sir Bleo- 
beris said : 

" Holy father, the fair Ysolt was here and was 
taken away by the Baron, was she not .-' " 

" Yes ! " 

" Alas ! " said the Knight, " I see no hope. 
Whilst I am poor, the Baron will never relent." 

" Never ! " chimed in Sir Agravaine. 

"Is your poverty the only objection he has to 
you .-* " asked the Professor. 

" Yes." 

" Well," replied the Professor, " I can understand 
a father's feelings in such a case. It seems hard 
upon a young man, but naturally he wants his 
daughter to be comfortable. Is there nothing you 
can turn your hand to to improve your fortunes ? " 

" We might rob somebody," said Sir Agravaine, 
with a reflective air. 


" Rob somebody ! " exclaimed the Professor, 
"That is simply atrocious ! Can't you go to work ; 
go into business, start a factory, speculate in 
stocks, or something of that kind ? " 

" Persons of my degree never work," said Sir 

The Professor sighed, "Ah ! I forgot. We must 
think of something else. Let me see ; young man, 
I think I can help you a little, perhaps. You agree 
to accept some information from me and I believe 
I can make your fortune." 

" Do you propose," asked Sir Agravaine, "to drug 
the Baron, or to enchant him so that he will change 
his mind ? I have often tried love-philters with la- 
dies whose hands I sought, but they always failed." 

" Nonsense ! " exclaimed the Professor. " I don't 
operate with such trumpery as that. You agree to 
help me, and we'll give this island such a stirring 
up as will revolutionize it." 

The Professor then proceeded to explain in de- 
tail the nature and operation of some of the scien- 
tific apparatus which he had with him in his trunk ; 
and the Knight and the Hermit hstened with 
open-eyed amazement while he told them of the 
telegraph, the telephone, the phonograph, the pho- 
tograph, and other modern inventions. 

Whilst the Professor waxed eloquent, Sir Dina- 
dan and Miss Baffin strolled slowly back towards 
the cave. 


Sir Dinadan bad improved the opportunity to 
offer Miss Baffin his hand, rather abruptly. 

" But you can try to love me," he pleaded, as 
she, with much embarrassment but with gentle- 
ness, resisted his importunity. 

"I can try, Sir Dinadan," she said, blushing, 
" but really I have known you only a few moments. 
It is impossible for me now to have any affection 
for you." 

" Will to-morrow be time enough ? " 

" No, no ! I must have a much longer time than 

" I will fight for you. We will get up a tourna- 
ment and you will see how I can unhorse the 
bravest knights. If I knock over ten, will that 
make any difference in your feelings .'' " 

" Not the slightest ! " 

" Fifteen ? " 

"You do not understand. It is not the custom 
in our country to press a suit upon a lady by pok- 
ing people off of a horse." 

" Perhaps I ought to fight your father .'* Will 
Sir Bafl5n break a lance with me to decide if I shall 
have you .-' " 

♦' My father does not fight." 

" Does not fight ! Certainly you don't mean 

" He is the Vice-President of the Universal 
Peace Society." 


" The WHAT ? " asked Sir Dinadan, in amaze- 

" Of the Peace Society ; a society which opposes 
fighting of every kind, under any circumstances." 

It was a moment or two before Sir Dinadan 
could get his breath. Then he said — 

" But — but then, Lady Tilly, what — what do 
men in your country do with themselves ? " 

Miss Baffin laughed and endeavored to explain 
to him the modern methods of existence. 

" I never could have believed such a thing from 
other lips," said Sir Dinadan. " It is marvellous. 
But tell me, how do lovers woo in your land ? " 

" Really, Sir Dinadan," replied Miss Baffin, 
blushing, " I have had no experience worth speak- 
ing of in such matters. I suppose, perhaps, they 
show a lady that they love her, and then wait until 
she can make up her mind." 

" I will wait, then, as long as you wish." 

"But," said Miss Baffin, shyly, although plainly 
she was beginning to feel a genuine interest in 
the proceeding, " your father and your mother may 
not think as you do ; and then, I shall not want to 
stay upon this island if I can get away." 

" My mother always consents to anything I 
wish, and the Baron never dares to oppose what 
she wants. And if you go back to your own coun- 
try, I will go with you, whether you accept me or 


Miss Baffin smiled. Sir Dinadan was in earnest, 
at any rate. She could not help thinking of the 
sensation that would be created in Wingohocking 
if she should walk up the fashionable street of the 
town some afternoon with Sir Dinadan in his parti- 
cojored dress of doublet and stockings, and jaunty- 
feathered cap, and sword, while his long yellow 
hair dangled about his shoulders. 

While Sir Dinadan was protesting that he should 
love her for ever and for ever, they came back 
again to the Hermit's cell, and then Sir Dinadan, 
greeting Sir Bleoberis and Sir Agravaine, pre- 
sented Miss Baffin to them. 

Sir Bleoberis was courteous but somewhat in- 
different ; Sir Agravaine, upon the contrary, ap- 
peared to be deeply impressed with Miss Baffin's 
beauty. After gazing at her steadily for a few 
moments, he approached her, and while the other 
members of the company engaged in conversation, 
he said, — 

" Fair lady, you are not married ? " 

" No, sir," replied Miss Baffin, with some indig- 

" Permit me, then, to offer you my hand." 

•' What ! " exclaimed Miss Baffin, becoming 

" I love you. Will you be mine .■' " said Sir Agra- 
vaine, falling upon one knee and trying to take her 


Miss Baffin boxed his ear with a degree of vio- 

Rising with a rueful countenance, he said, — 

"Am I to understand, then, that you decline the 
offer ? " 

Miss Baffin, without replying, walked away from 
him and joined her father. 

Sir Dinadan was asking the Hermit for a few 
simples with which to relieve the suffering of his 
noble mother. 

"I judge, from what you say," remarked the 
Professor, " that the Baroness is afflicted with 
lumbago. The Hermit's remedies, I fear, will 
be ineffectual. Permit me to recommend you 
to iron her noble back, and to apply a porous 

Sir Dinadan wished to have the process more 
clearly explained. The Professor unfolded the 
matter in detail, and said, — 

" I have some plasters in my trunk, down there 
upon the beach." 

" Then you are a leech ? " asked Sir Dinadan. 

"Matilda, my child," remarked the Professor, 
" observe that word ' leech ' used by Sir Dinadan ! 
How very interesting it is ! Not exactly a leech, 
Sir Dinadan ; but it is my habit to try to know a 
little of everything." 

" Can you cast a lover's horoscope ? " asked Sir 
Agravaine, looking at Matilda. 


"Young man," said the Professor, sternly, "there 
is no such foolery as a horoscope ;• and as for love, 
you had better let it alone until you have more wit 
and a heavier purse." 

" I wish you and the Lady Tilly to come with me 
to the castle," remarked Sir Dinadan. *' My father 
will welcome you heartily if you can medicine the 
sickness of my mother ; and she will be eager to 
receive your fair daughter." 

" I will go, of course," replied the Professor ; 
"you are very kind. Tilly, we had better accept, I 
think ? " 

Miss Baffin was willing to leave the matter 
wholly in the hands of her father. 

After requesting Sir Dinadan to have his lug- 
gage brought up from the beach, the Professor 
bade adieu to the Hermit, and then turning to Sir 
Bleoberis, who stood with a disconsolate air by the 
fire, he said : 

" I will see you again about your affair ; and 
meantime you may depend upon my using my in- 
fluence with the Baron to remove his prejudices. 
I will dance at your wedding yet ; that is, figura- 
tively speaking, of course ; for, as a precise matter 
of fact, I do not know how to dance." 

As the Professor and Sir Dinadan and Miss 
Baffin left the cell. Sir Agravaine approached the 
lady and whispered : 

" Did I understand you to say you don't love me ? " 


Miss Baffin twitched the skirt of her gown to one 
side in a scornful way, and passed on without re- 

" Women," sighed Sir Agravaine, as he looked , 
mournfully after her, " are so incomprehensible. I 
wish I knew what she meant." 




S Sir Dinadan led the Professor and Miss 
Baffin along the lovely path which went 
winding through the woods toward the 
castle, the Professor lighted another cigar, and 
in response to Sir Dinadan, he entered upon an 
explanation of the nature of tobacco, the methods 
and extent of its use, and its effect upon the human 

"The Lady Tilly, of course she smokes some- 
times, also ? " asked Sir Dinadan. 

" Oh, no," replied Miss Baffin, " ladies in my 
country never do." 

" Of course not," added the Professor. 

" And yet, if it is so pleasing and so beneficial as 
you say," responded the youth, " why should not 
ladies attempt it ? " 

The Professor really could not say ; Sir Dinadan 
was pressing him almost too closely. He compro- 
mised further discussion by yielding promptly, al- 
though with a melancholy reflection that his store 


of cigars was small, to a request to teach Sir Dina- 
dan, at the earliest opportunity, to smoke. 

As they neared the castle, the Professor's atten- 
tion was absorbed in observing the details of the 
structure. It was a massive edifice of stone, having 
severe outlines and no ornamentation worthy of the 
name, but presenting, from the very grandeur of its 
proportions, an impressive and not unpleasing ap- 
pearance. It was surrounded by a wide fosse filled 
with water ; and the Professor was delighted to ob- 
serve, as they drew near, that the entrance was 
protected with a portcullis and a drawbridge. The 
bridge was drawn up, and the iron portcullis, made 
of bars of huge size, was closed. 

" Magnificent, isn't it, Tilly .-' " exclaimed the 
Professor, gleefully. " It is probably the most per- 
fect specimen of early English architecture now 
upon earth. Most fortunately I have in my trunks 
a photographic apparatus with which to obtain a 
picture of it." 

Sir Dinadan seized a curved horn which hung 
upon the branch of a tree, and blew a blast loud 
and long upon it. 

The Professor regarded the performance with in- 
tense interest and not a little enthusiasm. 

The warder of the castle appeared at the grat- 
ing, and, perceiving Sir Dinadan, saluted him ; 
then lowering the drawbridge and lifting the port- 
cullis, which ascended with many hideous creaks 


and groans from the rusty iron, Sir Dinadan and 
his companions entered. 

Leaving the Professor and Miss Baffin comfort- 
ably seated in a great hall, the walls of which were 
adorned with curious tapestries dark with age, with 
swords and axes and trophies of the chase, Sir Din- 
adan went in search of the Baron. 

" Little did we think, Tilly," said the Professor, 
looking around, " when we left New York four 
weeks ago — it seems more like four years — that 
we should find ourselves, within a month, in such a 
place as this." 

" I can hardly believe it yet," responded Miss 

" It does seem like a dream. And yet we are 
certainly wide awake, and we are in the hall of a 
real castle, waiting for real people to come to us." 

" Sir Dinadan seems very real, too," said Miss 
Baffin, timidly. 

" Very ! There can be no doubt about it." 

" And he behaves like a real young man, too," 
continued Miss Baffin. " He proposed to me this 

" What ! Proposed to you ! Incredible ! Why, the 
boy has not known you more than an hour or two." 

" He is a man, pa ; not a boy," said Miss Baffin, 
a little hurt. " It was rather sudden ; but, then, 
genuine affection sometimes manifests itself in that 


The Professor smiled ; he perceived the exact 
situation of things. Then he looked very serious 
again. This was a contingency of which he had 
not taken account. 

" Well, Tilly," he said, " I hardly know what to 
say about the matter. It is so completely unex- 
pected. You didn't accept him .-' " 

" No ; not exactly, but — " 

" Very well, then. We will leave the situation as 
it is for the present. When we have been here 
longer we can better determine what we should 

Sir Dinadan entered with the Baron. The Baron 
greeted his guests with warmth, making no allu- 
sion to the occurrences in the Hermit's cell, and 
appearing, indeed, to have forgotten them. 

" It is enough, sir, and fair damsel, that misfortune 
has thrown you upon our shores. You shall make 
this your home while you live." 

" A thousand thanks," responded the Professor. 

" I cherish the belief that I can be of service to 
you. By the way, may I ask how is the noble 
Lady Bors ? " 

" Suffering greatly. My son tells me you are a 
wise leech, and can give her release from her 

" I hope I can. If you will permit my daughter, 
here, to see the lady and to follow my directions, 
we may be able to help her." 


"There," said the Baron, waving his hand, "are 
your apartments. When you have made ready we 
will summon you to our banquet." 

" Your property, which was upon the beach, will 
be placed before you very soon," said Sir Dinadan. 

The Professor and Miss Baffin entered the 
rooms, and the Baron withdrew with his son. 

When the trunks came and were opened, the 
guests arrayed themselves in their finest costumes, 
and Miss Baffin contrived to give to her beauty a 
bewildering effect by an artistic arrangement of 
frippery, which received its consummation when 
she placed some lovely artificial flowers in her 

Then the Professor, giving her certain plasters and 
a soothing drug or two, requested a servant, who 
stood outside the door, to announce to Lady Bors 
that Miss Baffin was ready to give her treatment. 

Sir Dinadan came forward and gallantly escorted 
Miss Baffin to his mother's room ; where, after pre- 
senting her, he left her and returned to the Profes- 

The young man led the Professor about the 
castle, showing him its apartments, its furniture 
and decorations, with an earnest purpose to try to 
find favor in the eyes of the father of the woman 
he loved. The Professor, for his part, was charmed 
with his companion, and his interest in the castle 
and its appurtenances increased every moment. 


" This," said Sir Dinadan, pausing before a large 
oaken door, barred with iron, " is the portal to the 
upper room of the south tower. In this chamber 
the Baron has confined Ysolt, my sister, until she 
consents to think no more of Sir Bleoberis." 

" Locked her up, has he ? That seems hard." 

" Cruel, is it not .-* " 

" You favor the suit of the Knight, do you .-' " 
nquired the Professor. 

" I would let Ysolt choose for herself He is a 
worthy man ; but he has poverty." 

" We must try to help him," said the Professor. 

" You would act differently in such a case ; would 
you not .-* " asked Sir Dinadan, rather eagerly. 

" Why, yes, of course ; that is, I mean," said the 
Professor, suddenly recollecting himself, and what 
Miss Baffin had told him, " I mean, I would think 
about it. I would give the matter thoughtful con- 

Sir Dinadan sighed, and asked the Professor if 
he would come with him to the dining-hall. 

It was a noble room. As the Professor entered 
it with Sir Dinadan, as he looked at the vast fire- 
place filled with burning logs, because the air of the 
castle was chilly even in summer time, at the 
rudely carved beams that traversed the ceiling, at 
the quaint curtains and curious ornaments upon 
the walls, at the long table which stretched across 
the floor and bore upon its polished surface a mul- 


titude of vessels of strange and often fantastic 
shapes, he could hardly believe his senses. These 
things, this method of existence, he had read about 
myriads of times, but they had never seemed very 
real to him until he encountered them here face to 

These people among whom he had come by such 
strange mischance actually lived and moved here, 
amid these scenes, and they were as common and 
as prosy to them as the scenes in his own home in 
the little enclosure hard by the walls of the univer- 
sity building at Wingohocking. 

It was that home and its equipment that seemed 
strange and incongruous to him now. As he 
thought about it, he felt that he would experience 
an actual nervous shock if he should suddenly be 
plumped down in his own library. Very oddly, as 
his mind reverted to the subject, his memory re- 
called with peculiarly vivid distinctness an old and 
faded dressing-gown in which he used to come to 
breakfast ; and a blue cream -jug with a broken 
handle, which used to be placed before him at the 

It seemed to him that the dressing-gown and the 
defective jug were as far back in the misty past as 
such a social condition as that with which he had 
now been brought into contact would have seethed 
if he had thought of it a month ago. 

As the servants entered, bearing the viands upon 



large dishes, the Baron made his appearance at the 
upper end of the room, and a moment later Lady 
Bors walked slowly in, leaning upon the arm of 
Miss Baffin. 

" Your sweet daughter," she said, when the Pro- 
fessor had been presented to her, " has eased my 
pain already. I think she must be an angel sent 
to me by Heaven." 

"She is an angel," said Sir Dinadan, emphat- 
ically, so that his mother looked at him curiously. 
Miss Baffin blushed. 

" Angels, my lady, do not come with porous 
plasters," said the Professor, smiling. 

" I love her already, whether she is angel or 
woman," replied Lady Bors, patting Miss Baffin's 

"So do — ," Sir Dinadan did not complete the 
sentence. It occurred to him that he might per- 
haps be getting a little too demonstrative. 

" The Lady Tilly," said the Baroness, " has told 
me something of the adventure which brought you 
here. Will you be so courteous as to tell us more, 
and to inform us of that strange and wonderful 
land from which you have come .■* " 

" Willingly, madam," replied the Professor. And 
so, while the meal was in progress, the Professor, — 
not neglecting the food, for he was really hungry, 
— tried, in the plainest language he could command, 
to convey to the minds of his hearers some notion 


of the marvels of modern civilization. The Baron, 
Lady Bors, and Sir Dinadan asked many questions, 
and they more than once expressed the greatest 
astonishment at the revelations made in the Pro- 
fessor's narrative. 

" I will show you some of these wonders," said 
Professor Baffin. " Most happily I have with me 
in my trunks quite a number of instruments, such 
as those I have told you of." 

" In your trunks ! " exclaimed the Baron. " You 
do not wear trunks, as we do." 

The Professor at once explained the misappre- 
hension. When he had done, there was heard in 
the room the twanging of the strings of a rude 
musical instrument. 

" It is the minstrel," said Sir Dinadan, as the 
Professor and Miss Baffin looked around. 

The Professor was delighted. 

" He is going to sing," said the Baron. 

The bard, after a few preliminary thrums upon 
an imbecile harp, burst into song. He occupied 
several moments in reciting a ballad of chivalry, 
and although his manner was dramatic, his voice 
was sadly cracked and out of tune. 

" Tilly," said the Professor, " remember to note 
in your journal that the musical system here is 
constructed from a defective minor scale, with in- 
correct intervals. I observed precisely the same 
characteristics in the song that our Irish nurse, 


Mary, used to put you to sleep with when you 
were a baby. I stood outside the chamber door 
one night, and wrote the strain down as she sang 
it. This proves that it is very ancient." 

" You like the song, then .-• " asked the Baron. 

" It is very interesting, indeed — very ! " replied 
the Professor. " I think we shall obtain a great 
deal of valuable information here. No, Tilly, you 
had better refuse it," said the Professor, observing 
that Sir Dinadan, who appeared to be animated by 
a resolute purpose to stuff Miss Baffin, was press- 
ing another dish upon her, " you will spoil your 
night's rest." 

" Do you sing. Sir Baffin .■' " inquired Lady Bors. 

" Never in company, my lady," replied the Pro- 
fessor; "my vocalization would excite too much 

The Baron and his wife manifestly did not com- 
prehend the pleasantry. 

" My daughter sings very nicely ; but you can 
hear her sing without her lips being opened. Ex- 
cuse me for a moment." 

The Professor went to his apartment, and pres- 
ently returned, bringing with him a phonograph. 
Placing it upon the table, he turned the crank. 
From the funnel at once issued a lovely soprano 
voice, singing, with exquisite enunciation and in- 
flection, a song, every word'of which was heard by 
the listeners. 


Lady Bors looked scared, Sir Dinadan crossed 
himself, the Baron eyed the Professor doubtfully, 
the minstrel over in the corner laid down his harp, 
and relieved his overcharged feelings by bursting 
into tears, which he wiped away with the sleeve of 
his tunic. 

"It must be magic," said the Baron, at last; "no 
mere man could hide an angelic spirit in such a 
place, and compel it to sing." 

" Allow me to explain," said the Professor ; and 
then he unfolded the mechanism, and showed the 
method of its operation. " My daughter sang up 
several songs for me before we left home. They 
were stored away here for future use. Tilly, my 
love, sing something, so that our friends can per- 
ceive that it is the same voice." 

Miss Baffin, after some hesitation, began " The 
Last Rose of Summer." While she sang, Sir'Din- 
adan looked at her with rapture depicted on his 
countenance. When she had done he reflected for 
an instant, and then, rising and walking over to the 
place where the minstrel sat, he seized by the ear 
that unfortunate operator with defective minor 
scales, and, leading him to the door, he kicked him 
into the hall. 

This appeared to relieve Sir Dinadan's feelings. 

When he returned, the Professor persuaded him 
to have his voice re(!orded by the phonograph ; 
and by the time the Baron and Lady Bors had 


also tried the experiment, the faith of the family 
in the powers of Professor Baffin had risen to 
such a pitch that the Baron would have been al- 
most ready to lay wagers in favor of his om- 

The Professor that evening accepted for himself 
and his daughter a very urgent invitation to make 
the castle their home, at least until Fate and the 
future should determine if they were to remain per- 
manently upon the island. The chance that they 
would ever escape seemed indeed, exceedingly 
slender ; and the Professor resolved to accept 
the promise with philosophical resignation. 

He employed much of his time during the first 
weeks that he was the Baron's guest in making the 
Baron familiar with some of the wonders of modern 
discovery and invention. The Baron also was deeply 
interested in an exhibition given by the Professor 
of the powers of his patent india-rubber life-raft, 
which the Professor brought up from the beach 
folded into a small bundle. After inflating it, to 
the amazement of the spectators, he put it into the 
fosse that surrounded the castle and paddled about 
upon it. The raft was allowed to remain in the 
ditch ready for use. 

The Professor often went outside the castle walls 
to talk with Sir Bleoberis, and to comfort him. 
The Professor explained the' telegraph and the loco- 
motive to the Knight ; and when the Knight as- 


sured him that the armorers of the island could 
make the machinery that would be required, if they 
should receive suitable instructions, the Professor 
arranged to build a short railroad line and a tele- 
graph line in partnership with Sir Bleoberis, if the 
latter would obtain the necessary concession from 
King Brandegore. Professor Baffin was of the 
opinion that the Knight, by such means, might 
ultimately acquire great wealth. 

Meantime Sir Dagonet had been seen several 
times of late in the vicinity of the castle, and once 
he had made again a formal demand upon the Baron 
for Ysolt's hand. This the Baron refused, where- 
upon Sir Dagonet returned an insolent reply that 
he would have her in spite of her father's objection. 
The Professor sincerely pitied both Ysolt and Sir 
Bleoberis, but as the Baron always became violently 
angry when the suffering of the lovers was alluded 
to, the Professor disliked to plead their cause. 

It occurred to him, however, one day that there 
could be no possible harm in arranging to permit 
the forlorn creatures to converse with each other ; 
and so, with the help of Miss Baffin, who was al- 
lowed to enter the captive's room, he fixed up a 
telephone, the machinery of which he had in one 
of his trunks, with a wire running from Ysolt's 
window to a point some distance beyond the castle 
^ The battery with which the instruments were 


supplied was placed in an iron box furnished by 
Sir Bleoberis, and hidden behind a huge oak tree. 

The lovers were delighted with the telephone and 
its performances ; but the Professor's ingenious 
kindness caused him a great deal of serious trouble. 

It seems that Miss Baffin one morning had been 
showing her father's umbrella to Ysolt, and making 
her acquainted with its peculiarities and uses. 

When Miss Baffin had withdrawn, Sir Bleoberis 
began to breathe through the telephone protesta- 
tions of his undying love, and finally he appealed 
to Ysolt to fly with him. Of course he expected 
nothing to come of this appeal, for he had not the 
slightest conception of any method by which Ysolt 
could escape from her prison. He merely threw it 
in, in a general sort of a way, as an expression of 
the intensity of his affection. 

But it suggested to the mind of Ysolt an inge- 
nious thought ; and she responded through the tel- 
ephone that if Sir Bleoberis would keep out of sight 
and have his gallant steed ready, she would join 
him in a few moments. The Knight's heart beat 
so fiercely at this news that it fairly made his ar- 
mor vibrate. 

Obeying the orders of Ysolt, he went behind the 
oak and sat upon the iron box containing the Pro- 
fessor's battery and electrical apparatus. 

Ysolt's window was but twenty feet from the sur- 
face of the water in the fosse. Directly beneath it» 

Why Sir Blkobebis did not Leap to tbce Rescue. Page 61. 


by a most fortunate chance, floated the life-raft of 
Professor Baffin. The brave girl, climbing upon 
the stone sill of the window, hoisted the umbrella, 
and sailing swiftly downward through the air, she 
alighted safely upon the raft. A single push upon 
the wall sent it to the further side of the ditch, 
whereupon Ysolt leaped ashore, unperceived by the 
warder or by any one in the castle. 

A moment more, and seated upon the steed of 
her cavalier, with his strong arm around her, she 
would be flying to peace and happiness and love's 
sweet fulfilment, far, far beyond the reach of the 
angry Baron's power. 

But, alas, human life is so full of mischances ! 
As Ysolt neared the great oak behind which her 
lover sat, Sir Dagonet came riding carelessly across 
the lawn. Seeing her he spurred his horse for- 
ward, and, right before the eyes of Sir Bleoberis, 
he grasped her by the arm, tossed her to his sad- 
dle and dashed away across the country. 

But why did not Sir Bleoberis leap to the rescue ? 

Sir Bleoberis tried with all his might to do so ; 
but he had on a full suit of steel armor, and the 
Professor's battery, by some means even yet unex- 
plained, so charged the cover of the box with mag- 
netism that it held the Knight close down. He 
could not move a muscle of his legs. He writhed 
and twisted and expressed his fury in language that 
was vehement and scandalous ; but the Professor's 


infamous machine held him fast ; and he was com- 
pelled to sit by, imbecile and raging, while the 
wind bore to his ears the heart-rending screams of 
his sweetheart as she cried to him to come and 
save her from an awful fate. 

The shrieks of the unhappy Ysolt penetrated to 
the castle, and at once the Baron ran out, followed 
by Sir Dinadan, Professor Baffin, and a host of the 
Baron's retainers, all of them armed and ready for 
war. The first act of the Professor was to capture 
his expanded umbrella, which was being blown 
about wildly by the wind. Furling it, he pro- 
ceeded to the place where Sir Bleoberis sat, trying 
to explain to the infuriated Baron what had hap- 

" There ! " said Sir Bleoberis, savagely, pointing 
to the Professor, " is the vile wretch that did it all ! 
Seize him ! He, he alone is to blame." 

The Professor was amazed. 

" Yes ! "exclaimed Sir Bleoberis, " it was he who 
persuaded the fair Ysolt to leap from the window ; 
it was he who notified Sir Dagonet, and it is his 
wicked enchantment that held me here so that I 
could not fly to her succor. I cannot even get up 

" The man," said the Professor to the Baron, 
*' appears to be suffering from intellectual aberra- 
tion. I can't imagine what he means. Why don't 
you rise ? " 


" You, foul wizard, know that I am held here by 
your infernal power ! " 

"Try to be calm," said the Professor, soothingly.. 
"Your expressions are too strong. Let me see — . 
Why, bless my soul, the electrical current has mag- 
netized the box. There, now," said the Professor 
as he snipped a couple of the wires, " try it again." 

Sir Bleoberis arose without effort. Baron Bors 
stepped forward and said sternly : 

" What, you, Sir Bleoberis, were doing here I 
do not know. I suspect you of evil purposes. But 
it is clear you had nothing to do with the seizure of 
my daughter, if, indeed, she has been carried off 
by Sir Dagonet. You may go. But as for you," 
shouted the Baron, turning to the Professor, " I 
perceive that your devilish arts have been used 
agains.t me and my family while you have been 
eating my bread. The world shall no longer be 
burdened by such a monster. Away with him to 
the scaffold ! " 

" This," said the Professor, as the perspiration 
stood in beads upon his pallid face, " is painful ; 
very painful. Allow me to explain. The fact is 

"Away ! " said the Baron, with an impatient ges- 
ture. " Off with his head as quickly as possible ! " 

"But, my dear sir," contended the Professor, as 
the Baron's retainers seized him, "this is simply 
awful ! No court, no jury, no trial, no chance to tell 


my Story ! It is not just. It is not fair play. Per- 
mit me, for one moment, to — " 

" To the block with him ! " screamed the Baron. 
"Have no more parley about it ! " 

Sir Bleoberis came forward. 

" Sir Bors," he said, " this, in a measure, is my 
quarrel. It falls to me by right to punish this 
wretch. Will you permit me ? " and then Sir 
Bleoberis struck the Professor in the face with his 
mailed gauntlet. 

Professor Baffin would have assailed him upon 
the spot, but for the fact that he was a captive. 

" He means that you shall fight him," said Sir 
Dinadan, who retained his faith in the Professor, 
remembering his own affection for Miss Baffin. 

" Certainly I will," said the Professor. " Where, 
and when, and how ? I would like to have it out 
right here on the spot." 

It is melancholy to think what would have been 
the sorrow of the members of the Universal Peace 
Society, of which the Professor was the first vice- 
president, if they could have observed the eager- 
ness with which that good man seemed to long for 
the fray, and the fiery rage which beamed from 
his eyes until the sparks almost appeared to fly 
from his spectacles. 

Miss Baffin at this moment rushed upon the 
scene, and in wild affi'ight flung her arms about her 


"The contest shall be made," said the Baron, 
sternly. " Unhand him ! " 

The Professor hurriedly explained the matter to 
Matilda, who sobbed piteously. 

" You shall have my armor, my horse, and my 
lance," said Sir Dinadan in a kindly voice to the 
Professor. " Go and get them," he continued, 
speaking to some of the servants. 

"Thank you," said the Professor. "I am much 
obliged. You are a fine young man." 

" But, pa," said Miss Baffin through her tears, 
" surely you are not going to fight. ? " 

" Yes, my love." 

" And you a member of the Peace Society, too." 

" I can't help it, my child. You may omit to 
note this extraordinary occurrence in your journal. 
The Society may as well remain in ignorance of 
it. But I must conform to the customs of the 

" How can you ever do anything upon a horse, 
with armor and a lance .-* It is dreadful ! " 

" No, my child, it may perhaps be regarded as 
fortunate. For many years I have longed to ob- 
serve the practices of ancient chivalry more closely ; 
that opportunity has now come. I am about to 
have actual practical experience with them." 

Miss Baffin wiped her eyes as Sir Dinadan came 
to her side and tried to comfort her. Sir Agra- 
vaine, who had ridden up during the excitement, 


dismounted when he saw Miss Baffin, and pulling 
Sir Dinadan by the sleeve, he whispered : 

" You are acquainted with that lady ? " 

" Yes." 

" Would you mind ascertaining for me if I am to 
understand her remarkable conduct to me as tanta- 
mount to a refusal ? I don't want to trouble you, 

Sir Dinadan turned abruptly away, leaving Sir 
Agravaine still involved in doubt. 

When the armor came, Sir Dinadan helped the 
Professor to put it on. It was a size or two too 
large for him, and the Professor had a considerable 
amount of difficulty in adjusting the pieces prop- 
erly, but, with the help of Sir Dinadan, he at last 

" Bring me my lance ! " he exclaimed, with a 
firm voice, as he stepped forward. 

" It is here," said Sir Dinadan. 

"Farewell, my child," said the Professor to Miss 
Baffin, making a futile attempt to bend his elbows 
so that he could embrace her. " Farewell ! " and 
the Professor tried to kiss her, but he merely suc- 
ceeded in injuring her nose with the visor of his 

" O pa ! " said Miss Baffin, weeping, " if you 
should be killed." 

" No danger of that love, none at all. I am per- 
fectly safe. I feel exactly as if I were a cooking- 


stove, to be sure ; but you may depend upon my 
giving a good account of myself. And now, dear, 
adieu ! Ho, there ! " exclaimed the Professor, with 
faint reminiscences of the tragic stage coming into 
his mind. " Bring me my steed ! " 

The determined efforts of four muscular men 
were required to mount the Professor upon his 
horse. And when he was fairly astride, with his 
lance in his hand, he felt as if he weighed at least 
three thousand pounds, and the weapon seemed 
quite as large as the jib-boom of the " Morning 

The warrior did his best to sit his horse grace- 
fully ; but the miserable beast pranced and cur- 
veted in such a very unreasonable manner that his 
spectacles were continually shaking loose, and in 
his efforts to fix them, and at the same time to 
hold his horse, he lost control of his lance, and 
came near impaling two or three of the spectators. 

Sir Dinadan's own groom then took the bridle- 
rein, and leading the horse quietly to the jousting- 
ground put him in place directly opposite to Sir 
Bleoberis, whose lance was in rest, and who evi- 
dently intended to spit the Professor through and 
through at the first encounter. 

The Professor really felt uncomfortably at a dis- 
advantage in his iron-clad condition, and he began 
to think that the sports and combats of the olden 
time were perhaps not so interesting after all, 


when brought within the range of practical exper- 

Suddenly the herald's trumpet sounded a blast. 
The Professor had not the least notion of the niean- 
ing of the sound, but Sir Bleoberis started promptly 
towards him, and the Professor's horse, trained at 
jousting, also started. The Professor was not quite 
ready, and he pulled the rein hard while trying to 
fix his lance in its rest. This caused the horse to 
swerve sharply around, whereupon the warrior's 
spectacles came off, and the horse dashed at full 
speed to the side of the jousting-ground, bringing 
the half-blinded Professor's lance up against a tree, 
into which the point stuck fast. The Professor was 
hurled with some violence to the ground, and the 
horse ran away. 

When they picked him up and unlatched his hel- 
met, he was bleeding at the nose. 

" It is of no consequence, Matilda, of no conse- 
quence, I assure you," he said. " I am shaken up 
a little, but not hurt. I think, perhaps, I need 
practice at this kind of thing." 

The Professor, while speaking, felt about him in 
a bewildered way for the pocket in which he was 
used to keep his handkerchief. But as the armor 
baffled his efforts to find it. Miss Baffin offered him 
her kerchief with which to stanch the blood. 

"The ancients, Matilda," said the Professor, as 
he pressed the handkerchief to his nose, " must 


have possessed great physical strength, and they 
could not have been near sighted. By the way, 
where are my glasses ? " 

Sir Dinadan handed them to him. 

"You will not attempt to get on that horrid 
horse, again, pa, will you ? " said Miss Baffin, en- 

" I think not, my child, unless I am forced to do 
so. Jousting is interesting to read about ; but as a 
matter of fact it is brutal, I think, Sir Dinadan, I 
should be more comfortable if I could get this cast- 
iron overcoat off, so that I could move my elbows 
without creaking." 

Sir Dinadan helped him to remove his armor, and 
said : 

*' My noble mother has insisted that Sir Bleoberis 
shall not fight with you, and the Baron has yielded 
to her wish." 

" How can I thank you .'' " exclaimed Miss 

Sic Dinadan looked at her as if he would like 
to tell her how, if he dared venture. But he only 
said : 

" I deserve no thanks. My mother is upon your 
side and that of your father. She asks me to bring 
him to her." 

The Baron was with his wife, and Sir Bleoberis 
stood before them. 

" Sir Bamn," said the Baron, " Lady Bors insists 


that you are innocent of any wrong-doing; and Sir 
Bleoberis, seeing that you are unskilled, has re- 
solved not to have a combat with you. I am will- 
ing to pardon you upon one condition : that you 
find my daughter and bring her back to me." 

" That I should be willing to try to do under any 
circumstances," said the Professor. " I regret her 
loss very deeply. But, you see, I know nothing of 
the country. I am afraid I should not discover her 
if I should go alone." 

" I will go with you," said Sir Bleoberis. 

"That is first-rate," said the Professor. *'Give 
me your hand." 

" We will keep your daughter in the castle as a 
hostage," said the Baron. " When you return with 
Ysolt you shall have the Lady Tilly, and Sir Bleo- 
beris shall have Ysolt." 

" I am profoundly grateful," replied Sir Bleo- 
beris, bowing. 

" My dear," said the Professor to Miss Baffin, 
"does the arrangement suit you ? " 

" It suits me," muttered Sir Dinadan. 

" I must stay whether I wish to or not," replied 
Miss Baffin. " But I shall worry about you every 
moment while you are gone." 

" Sir Dinadan may be able to soothe her," said 
Sir Bleoberis, with a smile. 

" I think I could, if I were allowed to try," in- 
sinuated Sir Agravaine. 


**I charge Sir Dinadan and his noble parents 
with the task," said the Professor, 

The entire party, with the exception of Sir Agra- 
vaine, then returned to the castle, so that the Pro- 
fessor could make ready for the journey. 




jROFESSOR BAFFIN politely declined 
to wear the armor of Sir Dinadan upon 
the journey. He packed a few things in a 
satchel, and putting his revolver in his pocket, he 
bade adieu to his daughter and the members of the 
Baron's family. Mounting his horse by the side of 
Sir Bleoberis, who rode in full armor, the two 
trotted briskly out through the woods to the road- 
way, which ran by not far from the castle. 

" Where shall we go to look for the lady } " 
asked the Professor, as the Knight started down 
the road at a rapid pace. 

" The villain, no doubt, has carried her captive to 
his castle. We shall seek her there." 

" How are we going to get her out ? I have had 
very little experience, personally, in storming cas- 

" We shall have to devise some plan when we 
get there," replied the Knight. " The castle, un- 


happily, is upon an island in the middle of the 

"And I can't swim," said the Professor. 

" Perhaps the King will give us help. It is close 
to the place where he holds his court." 

The Professor began to think that the case 
looked exceedingly unpromising. He lapsed into 
silence, thinking over the probable results of the 
failure of his mission ; and as the Knight appeared 
to be absorbed in his own reflections, the pair 
rode forward without engaging in further con- 

Professor Baffin did not fail to notice the extreme 
loveliness of the country through which they were 
passing. It presented all the characteristics of a 
perfect English landscape ; but he observed that it 
was not fully cultivated, and that the agricultural 
methods employed were of a very primitive kind. 

After an hour's ride, the two horsemen entered a 
wood. Hardly had they done so before they heard, 
near to them, the voice of a woman crying loudly 
for help. Sir Bleoberis at once spurred his horse 
forward, and the Professor followed close behind him. 

Presently they perceived a Knight in armor en- 
deavoring to hold upon the horse in front of him 
a young woman of handsome appearance, who 
screamed loudly as she attempted to release herself 
from his grasp. 

" Drop her ! " exclaimed the Professor in an ex- 


cited manner, and drawing his revolver, " put her 
down ; let her go at once ! " 

The Knight turned, and seeing the intruders he 
released the maiden, and levelling his lance, made 
straight for Sir Bleoberis at full gallop. 

The lady, white with terror, flew to the Profes- 
sor, and reposed her head upon his bosom. 

Professor Baffin was embarrassed. He had no 
idea what he had better do or say. He could not 
repulse the poor creature ; and as the situation, 
upon the whole, was not positively disagreeable, he 
permitted her to remain, sobbing upon his bosom, 
while he watched the fight and dried her eyes, in 
a fatherly way, with his handkerchief. 

The two Knights came together with a terrible 
shock which made the sparks fly ; but neither was 
unhorsed or injured, and the lances of both glanced 
aside. They turned, and made at each other 
again. This time the lance of each pierced the 
armor of the other, so that neither lance could 
be withdrawn. It really seemed as if the two 
knights would have to undress and to walk off, 
leaving their armor pinioned together. A moment 
later the strange Knight fell to the ground, and 
lay perfectly still. The Professor went up to him 
and taking his lance from his hand, so that Sir 
Bleoberis could move, unlaced the Knight's helmet. 

He was dead. 

The Professor was inexpressibly shocked. 


" Why," he exclaimed, " the man is dead ! Most 
horrible, isn't it ? " 

" Oh, no," said Sir Bleoberis, coolly. " I tried to 
kill him." 

" You wanted to murder him } " 

" Oh, yes, of course," 

" I am so glad you did," exclaimed the damsel 
with a sweet smile. " How can I thank you ? 
And you, my dear preserver." 

"Bless my soul, madam," exclaimed the Pro- 
fessor, " I had nothing to do with it. I consider it 
perfectly horrible." 

Turning to Sir Bleoberis, the maiden said, " It 
was you who fought, but it was this brave and wise 
man who brought you here, was it not ? " 

" Yes," said Sir Bleoberis, smiling. 

" I knew it," exclaimed the lady, flinging her 
arms around the Professor's neck. " I can never 
repay you — never, never, excepting with a life of 

The Professor began to feel warm. Disengaging 
himself as speedily as possible, he said — 

" Of course madam, I am very glad you have 
been rescued — very. But I deeply regret that the 
Knight over there was slain. What," asked the 
Professor of Sir Bleoberis, " will you do with him .-• " 

" Let him lie. He is of no further use." 

" I never heard of anything so shocking," said 
Professor Baffin. " And how are we to dispose of 
this lady ? " 


" I will go with you," exclaimed the damsel, look- 
ing eagerly at the Professor, " Let me tell you my 
story. My name is Bragvvaine. I am the daugh- 
ter of the Prince Sagramor. That dead Knight 
found me, a few hours ago, walking in the park by 
my father's castle. Sir Lamorak, he was called. 
Riding up swiftly to me, he seized me, and carried 
me away. He brought me, despite my screams 
and struggles, to this place, where you found us 
both. I should now be a captive in his castle but 
for you." 

Bragwaine seemed about to fall upon the Profes- 
sor's neck again, but he pretended to stumble, and 
retreated to a safe distance. 

" Is there much of this kind of thing going on, — 
this business of galloping off with marriageable 
girls .'' " asked the Professor. 

" Oh yes," said Sir Bleoberis. 

" I thought so," said the Professor ; " this is the 
second case I have encountered to-day. We shall 
most likely have quite a collection of rescued dam- 
sels on our hands by the time we get back home. 
It is interesting, but embarrassing." 

" I know Prince Sagramor," said Sir Bleoberis 
to Bragwaine. " We are going to the court, and 
will take you to your father." 

" You will take me. Sir — Sir — " 

" Sir Baffin," explained Sir Bleoberis. 

"Sir Baffin, will you not?" 


" You can have my horse. I will walk." 

" I will ride upon your horse with you, and you 
shall hold me on," said Bragwaine. 

" That is the custom," said Bleoberis. 

" But," exclaimed the Professor with an air of 
distress, " I am not used to riding double. I doubt 
if I can manage the horse and hold you on at the 
same time." 

" You need not hold me," said Bragwaine laugh- 
ingly ; " I will hold fast to you. I shall not fall." 

"But then—" 

" I wi/l go with you," said Bragwaine almost 
tearfully. " You won me from the hands of that 
villain, Lamorak, and I am not so ungrateful as to 
leave you to cling to another person." 

" Well, I declare ! " exclaimed the Professor, 
"this certainly is a very curious situation for a 
man like me to find himself in. However, I will 
do the best I can." 

Professor Baffin mounted his steed, and then Sir 
Bleoberis swung the fair Bragwaine up to a place 
on the saddle in front of the Professer. Bragwaine 
clutched his coat-sleeve tightly ; and although the 
Professor felt that there was no real necessity that 
she should attempt to preserve her equipoise by 
pressing his shoulder strongly with her head, he 
regarded the arrangement without very intense 

He found that he could ride very comfortably 


with two in the saddle, but he felt that his atten- 
tion could be given more effectively to the manage- 
ment of the horse if Bragvvaine would stop turning 
her eyes up to his in that distracting manner so 

They rode along in silence for awhile. Sud- 
denly Bragwaine said : 

" Sir Baffin ? " 

"Well; what?" 

" Are you married ? " 

Professor Baffin hardly knew what answer he had 
better give. After hesitating for a moment, he said : 

" I have been." 

" Then your wife is dead ? " 

The Professor could not lie. He had to say 
" Yes ! " 

" I am so glad," murmured Bragwaine. " Not 
that she is dead, but that you are free." 

Professor Baffin was afraid to ask why. He felt 
that matters were becoming serious. 

" And the reason is," continued Bragwaine, " that 
I have learned to love you better than I love any 
other one on earth ! " 

She said this calmly, very modestly, and quite as 
if it were a matter of course. 

The Professor in astonishment looked at Sir Bleo- 
beris, who had heard Bragwaine's words. The 
Knight nodded to him pleasantly, and said, " I ex- 
pected this." 


Evidently it was not an unusual thing for ladies 
so to express their feelings. 

The somewhat bewildered Sir Baffin then said, 
" Well, my dear child, it is very kind indeed for you 
to regard me in that manner. I have done nothing 
to deserve it." 

" You are my rescuer, my benefactor, my heart's 
idol ! " 

" Persons at ray time of life," said the Professor, 
blushing, "have to be extremely careful. I will be 
a father to you, of course ! Oh, certainly, you may 
count upon me being a father to you, right along.' 

"I do not mean that I love you as a daughter. 
You must marry me ; you dear Sir Baffin." Then 
she actually patted his cheek. 

Professor Baffin could feel the cold perspiration 
trickling down his back. 

" I think," he said to Sir Bleoberis, " that this is, 
everything considered, altogether the most stupen- 
dous combination of circumstances that ever came 
within the range of my observation. It is positively 

" You will break my heart if you will not love 
me," said Bragwaine, as if she were going to cry. 

"Well, well," replied the bewildered Professor, 
" we can consider the subject at some other time. 
Your father, you know, might have other views, 

"The Prince, my father, will overwhelm you 


with gratitude for saving me. I know he will ap- 
prove of our marriage. I will persuade him to 
have you knighted, and to secure for you some 
high place at court." 

" That," said the Professor, " would probably 
make me acutely miserable for life." 

Within an hour or two after the fight with Sir 
Lamorak, the Professor and his companions drew 
near to Callion, the town in which King Brande- 
gore held his court. 

Just before entering it they encountered Prince 
Sagramor coming out with a retinue of knights in 
pursuit of Sir Lamorak and his daughter. Natu- 
rally he was filled with joy at finding that she had 
been rescued and brought back to him. 

After embracing her, he greeted Sir Bleoberis 
and the Professor warmly, thanking them for the 
service they had done to him. Bragwaine insisted 
upon the Professor's especial title to gratitude, and 
when she had told with eloquence of his wisdom 
and his valor, and had added to her story Sir Ble- 
oberis's explanation of the Professor's adventures, 
the Prince saluted the latter, and said : 

"There is only one way in vvhich I can honor 
you. Sir Baffin. I perceive that already you have 
won the heart of this damsel. I had intended her 
for another. But she is fairly yours. Take her, 
gallant sir, and with her a loving father's blessing! " 

Bragwaine wept for happiness. 


" But, your highness, if I might be permitted to 
explain — " stammered the Professor. 

" I know ! " replied the Prince. " You will per- 
haps say you are poor. It is nothing. I will make 
you rich. It is enough for me that she loves you, 
and that you return it." 

" I cannot sufficiently thank you for your kind- 
ness," said the Professor, " but really there is a — " 

" If you are not noble, the King will cure that. 
He wants such brave men as you are in his ser- 
vice," said the Prince. 

" I am a free-born American citizen, and the 
equal of any man on earth," said the Professor 
proudly, " but to tell you the honest truth, I — " 

** You are not already married ? " inquired the 
Prince, somewhat suspiciously. 

" I have been married ; my wife is dead, and — " 

"Then, of course, you can marry Bragwaine. 
Sir Colgrevance," said the Prince to one of his at- 
tendants, " ride over and tell the abbot that Brag- 
waine will wish to be married to-morrow ! " 

" To-morrow ! " shrieked the Professor. " I really 
must protest ; you are much too sudden. I have 
an important mission to fulfil, and I must attend to 
that first, and at once." 

Sir Bleoberis explained to the Prince the nature 
of their errand, and told him the Professor's daugh- 
ter was held as a hostage until he should bring 
Ysolt back to Baron Bors. 


" We will delay the wedding, then," said the 
Prince. " And now, let us ride homeward." 

If it had not been for the heart-rending manner 
in which everybody regarded him as the future 
husband of Bragwaine, and for the extreme tender- 
ness of that lady's behavior toward him, the Profes- 
sor would have enjoyed hugely his sojourn at the 
court. King Brandegore regarded him from the 
first with high favor, and the sovereign's conduct 
of course sufficed to recommend the Professor to 
everybody else. The Professor found the King to 
be a man of rather large mind, and it was a contin- 
ual source of pleasure to the learned man to un- 
fold to the King, who listened with amazement and 
admiration, the wonders of modern invention, 
science, and discovery. 

With what instruments the Professor's ingenuity 
could construct from the rude materials at hand; 
he showed a number of experiments, chiefly electri- 
cal, which so affected the King that he ordered the 
regular court magician to be executed as a per- 
fectly hopeless humbug ; but Professor Baffin's 
energetic protest saved the unhappy conjurer from 
so sad a fate. 

An extemporized telegraph line, a few hundred 
yards in length, impressed the King more strongly 
than any other thing, and not only did he make 
to Sir Bleoberis and the Professor exclusive con- 
cessions of the right to build lines within his 


dominions, but he promised to organize, at an early- 
day, a raid upon a neighboring sovereign, for the 
purpose of obtaining plunder enough to give to the 
enterprise a handsome subsidy. 

Sir Dagonet did not come to court during the 
Professor's stay. But there, in full view of the 
palace, a mile away in the lake, was his castle, and 
in that castle was the lovely Ysolt. 

The Professor examined the building frequently 
through his field-glasses, which, by the way, the 
King regarded with unspeakable admiration ; and 
more than once he thought he could distinguish 
Ysolt sitting by the window of one of the towers 
overlooking the lake. 

The King several times sent to Sir Dagonet 
messages commanding Sir Dagonet to bring the 
damsel to him, but as Sir Dagonet invariably re- 
sponded by trying to brain the messenger or to 
sink his boat, the King was forced to give it up as 
a hopeless case. Storming the castle was out of 
the question. None of the available boats were 
large enough to carry more than half a dozen men, 
and Sir Dagonet had many boats of great size 
which he could man, so as to assail any hostile fleet 
before it came beneath the castle wall. 

But the Professor had a plan of his own, which 
he was working out in secret, while he waited. 
Sir Bleoberis had procured several skilful armor- 
ers, and under the direc«tions of the Professor they 


undertook to construct, in rather a crude fashion, 
a small steam-engine. This, when the parts were 
completed, was fitted into a boat with a propeller 
screw, and when the craft was launched upon the 
lake, the Professor was delighted to find that it 
worked very nicely. The trial-trip was made at 
night, so that the secret of the existence of such a 
vessel might be kept from any of the friends of 
Sir Dagonet who might be loitering about. 

It devolved upon Sir Bleoberis, by bribing a 
servant of Sir Dagonet's who came ashore, to send 
a message to Ysolt. She was ordered to .watch at 
a given hour upon a certain night for a signal 
which should be given from a boat, beneath her 
window, and then to leap fearlessly into the water. 

The night chosen was to be the eve of the Pro- 
fessor's wedding-day. The more Prince Sagramor 
saw of Professor Baf^n and his feats, the more 
strongly did he admire him ; and in order to make 
provision against any accident which should de- 
prive his daughter of marriage with so remarkable 
a man, the Prince commanded the wedding-day to 
be fixed positively, despite the remonstrances 
which the Professor offered somewhat timidly, in 
view of the extreme delicacy of the matter. 

Upon the night in question, the Professor, at the 
request of the King, who was very curious to^have 
an opportunity to learn from practical experience 
the nature of the thing which the Professor called 


"a. lecture," undertook to deliver in the dining- 
room of the palace the lecture upon Sociology, 
which he had prepared for his course in Eng- 

The room was packed, and the interest and curi- 
osity at first manifested were intense ; but the 
Professor spoke for an hour and three-quarters, 
losing his place several times because of the 
wretched character of the lights, and when he had 
concluded, he was surprised to discover that his 
entire audience was sound asleep. 

At first he felt rather annoyed, but in an instant 
he perceived that chance had arranged matters in 
an extremely favorable manner. 

It was within precisely half an hour of the time 
when he was to be in the boat under the window 
of Ysolt. 

Stepping softly from the platform, he went upon 
tiptoe from the room. Not a sleeper awoke. 
Hurrying from the palace to the shore, he found 
Sir Bleoberis sitting in the boat, and awaiting him 
with impatience. 

The Professor entered the craft, and applying a 
lighted match to the wood beneath the boiler, he 
pushed the boat away from the shore, and waited 
until he could get steam enough to move with. 

A few moments sufficed for this, and then, open- 
ing the throttle-valve gently, the tiny steamer 
sailed swiftly over the bosom of the lake, through 


the intense darkness, until the wall of the castle, 
dark and gloomy, loomed up directly ahead. 

A liglit was faintly burning in Ysolt's chamber 
in the tower, and the casement was open. 

As the prow of the boat lightly touched the stones 
of the wall and rested, Sir Bleoberis softly whistled, 

"I have always been uncertain," said the Pro- 
fessor to himself, "if the ancients knew how to 
whistle. This seems to indicate that they did 
know how. It is extremely interesting. I must 
remember to tell Tilly to note it in her journal." 

In response to the signal, a head appeared at the 
casement, and a soft, sweet voice said : 

"Is that you, darling .-' " 

" Yes, yes, it is I," replied Sir Bleoberis. " Oh, 
my love ! my Ysolt I " he exclaimed, in an ecstasy. 

" Is Sir BafBn there, too .-' " 

" Yes. We are both here ; and we have a swift 
boat. Come to me at once, dear love, that we may 
fly with you homeward." 

" I am not quite ready, love," replied Ysolt. 
" Will not you wait for a moment .-• " 

" It is important," said the Professor, " that we 
should act quickly." 

"But I must fix up my hair," returned Ysolt. 
" I will hurry as much as I can." 

" Women," said the Professor to his companion, 
"are all alike. She would rather remain in prison 
for life than come out with her hair mussed." 


The occupants of the boat waited very impa- 
tiently for fifteen or twenty minutes. Then Ysolt, 
coming again to the window, said : 

" Are you there, dearest ? " 

"Yes," replied Sir Bleoberis, eagerly. " We are 
all ready." 

" And there's no time to lose," added Professor 

" Is your hair fixed ? " asked the Knight. 

" Oh, yes," said Ysolt. 

" Then come right down." 

"Would ten minutes more make any differ- 
ence ? " asked Ysolt. 

" It might ruin us," replied the Professor. 

" We can wait no longer, darling," said Sir Ble- 
oberis, firmly. 

" Then you will have to go without me," said 
Ysolt, with a tinge of bitterness. " It is simply 
impossible for me to come till I get my bundle 

"We will wait, then," returned Sir Bleoberis, 
gloomily. Then he said to the Professor : " She 
had no bundle with her when she was captured." 

The Professor, in silent desperation, banked his 
fires, threw open the furnace-door, and began to 
wonder what kind of chance he would have in the 
event of a boiler explosion. Blowing off steam, 
under the existing circumstances, was simply out 
of the question. 


After a delay of considerable duration, Ysolt's 
voice was heard again : 

" Dearest ! " 

" What, love ? " asked Sir Bleoberis. 

" I am all ready now," said Ysolt. 

" So are we." 

" How must I get down ? " 

" Climb through the window and jump. You 
will fall into the water, but I shall catch you and 
place you in the boat," 

" But I shall get horridly wet ! " 

" Of course ; but, darling, that can make no 
great difference, so that you escape." 

" And spoil my clothes, too ! " 

"Yes, Ysolt, I know; but — " 

" I cannot do it ; I am afraid." And Ysolt be- 
gan to cry. 

Wild despair filled the heart of Sir Bleoberis, 

" I have a rope here," said the Professor ; " but 
how are we to get it up to her ? " 

" Ysolt," said Bleoberis, " if I throw you the end 
of a rope, do you think you can catch it .-• " 

" I will try." 

Sir Bleoberis threw it. He threw it again. He 
threw it thirteen times, and then Ysolt contrived 
to catch it. 

" What shall I do with it now .-' " she asked. 

" Tie it fast to something ; to the bed, or any- 
thing," replied the Knight. 


" Now what shall I do ? " asked the maiden, 
when she had made the rope secure. 

" Slide right down into the boat," said the Pro- 

" It would ruin my hands," said Ysolt, mourn- 

" Make the attempt, and hold on tightly," said 
Sir Bleoberis. 

"We shall be caught if we stay here much 
longer," observed the Professor, with anxious 
thoughts of the boiler. 

" Good-bye then ! I am lost." Go without me ! 
Save yourselves ! Oh, this is terrible ! " Ysolt be- 
gan again to cry. 

" I will help her," said Sir Bleoberis, seizing the 
rope and clambering up the wall until he reached 
the window. 

Day began to dawn as he disappeared in the 
room. The Professor started his fire afresh and 
shut the furnace-door. Sir Bleoberis, he knew, 
would bring down Ysolt without delay. 

A moment later, the Knight seated himself upon 
the stone sill of the window and caught the rope 
with his feet and one of his hands. Then he placed 
his arm about Ysolt, lifted her out and began to 

Professor Baffin, even in his condition of intense 
anxiety, could not fail to admire the splendid physi- 
cal strength of the Knight. When the pair were 


about half-way down, the rope broke, and Ysolt and 
Sir Bleoberis were plunged into the lake. 

The Professor, excited as he was by the acci- 
dent, remembered the boiler, and determined that 
he would have to blow off steam and take the con- 
sequences ; so he threw open the valve, and in- 
stantly the castle walls sent the fierce sound out 
over the waters. 

Sir Bleoberis, with Ysolt upon his arm, managed 
to swim to the side of the boat, and the Professor 
after a severe effort lifted her in. Then he gave 
his hand to the Knight, and as Sir Bleoberis's foot 
touched the side the Professor shut off steam, 
opened his throttle-valve, backed the boat away 
from the wall, and started for the shore. 

It was now daylight. As the boat turned the 
corner of the wall, it almost came into collision 
v^ith a boat in which, with ten oarsmen, sat Sir 
Dagonet. The inmates of the castle had been 
alarmed by the performances of the Professor's 
escape-pipe ; and Sir Dagonet had come out to 
ascertain the cause of the extraordinary noise. 

The Professor's presence of mind v/as perfect. 
Turning his boat quickly to the right, he gave the 
engine a full head of steam and shot away before 
Sir Dagonet's boat could stop its headway. 

Sir Dagonet had perceived Ysolt, and recognized 
Sir Bleoberis. White with rage he screamed to 
them to stop, and he hurled at them terrible threats 


of vengeance if he should overtake them. As no 
heed was given to him he urged his rowers to put 
forth their mightiest efforts, and soon his boat was 
in hot pursuit of that in which the maiden, the 
Knight, and the Professor fled away from him. 

By some means the people of the town of Callion 
had had their attention drawn to the proceedings at 
the castle, and now the shore was lined with specta- 
tors who watched with eager interest the race be- 
tween Sir Dagonet's boat and the wonderful craft 
.which had neither oars nor sails, and which sent a 
long streamer of smoke from out its chimney. 

Professor Baffin, positively determined not to 
wed the daughter of Prince Sagramor, had prepared 
a stratagem. He had sent three horses to the side 
of the lake opposite to the town, and three or four 
miles distant from it, with the intention of landing 
there, and hurrying with Ysolt and Sir Bleoberis to 
the home of Baron Bors, without the knowledge of 
the Prince. 

The daylight interfered, to some extent, with the 
promise of the plan, but Professor Baffin resolved 
to carry it out at any rate, taking what he considered 
to be the tolerably good chances of success. He 
turned the prow of his boat directly toward the 
town, making as if he would go thither. The pur- 
suers followed fast, and as the Professor perceived 
that he could easily outstrip them, he slowed his 
engine somewhat, permitting Sir Dagonet to gain 
upon him. 


When he was within a few hundred yards of the 
shore, close enough indeed, for him to perceive 
that the King, Prince Sagramor, Bragwaine, and 
all the attendants of the court were among those 
who watched the race with excited interest, the 
Professor suddenly turned his boat half around, and 
putting the engine at its highest speed, ploughed 
swiftly toward the opposite shore. 

A mighty shout went up from the onlookers. 
Manifestly the fugitives had the sympathy of the 

The oarsmen of Sir Dagonet worked right val- 
iantly to win the chase, but the steamer gained con- 
stantly upon them ; and when her keel grated upon 
the sand, close by where the horses stood, the 
pursuers were at least a third of a mile behind. 

Sir Bleoberis sprang from the boat, and helped 
Ysolt to alight. The Professor stopped to make 
the fire in the furnace more brisk, and to tie down 
the safety valve ; then hurrying after Sir Bleoberis 
and Ysolt, the three mounted their horses and 
galloped away. 

In a few moments they reached the top of a hill 
which commanded a view of the lake. They stopped 
and looked back. Sir Dagonet had just touched 
the shore, but, as he had no horse, further pursuit 
was useless. So, shaking his fist at the distant 
party, he turned away with an affectation of con- 
tempt, and entered the Professor's boat to satisfy 
his curiosity respecting it. 


" Let him be careful how he meddles with that," 
said the Professor. 

As he spoke, the boat was torn to fragments. 
Sir Dagonet and two of his men were seen to fall, 
and a second afterwards the dull, heavy detonation 
of an explosion reached the ears of the Professor 
and his friends. 

" It is dreadful," said the Professor with a sigh, 
"but self-preservation is the first law of nature, 
and then he had no right to run away with Ysolt, 
at any rate." 




HE three friends turned their horses' heads 
away from the lake, and pressed swiftly 
along the road. 

" It is necessary," said Professor Baffin, " that 
we should make good speed, for Prince Sagramor 
saw us come to this side of the lake, and if he shall 
suspect our design no doubt he will at once pursue 
us, in behalf of that abominable girl, his daughter." 

The journey was made in silence during most of 
the time, for the hard riding rendered conversa- 
tion exceedingly difficult, but whenever the party 
reached the crest of a hill which commanded a 
view of the road in the rear, the Professor looked 
anxiously behind him to ascertain if anybody was 
giving chase. When within a- mile or two of 
Lonazep, he did at last perceive what appeared 
to be a group of horsemen at some distance behind 
him, and although he felt by no means certain that 
the Prince was among them, he nervously urged 


his companions forward, spurring, meantime, his 
own horse furiously, in the hope that he might 
reach the castle of Baron Bors ere he should be 

As the party came within sight of the castle, 
they could hear the hoofs of the horses of the pur- 
suers, and soon their ears were assailed by cries, 
demanding that they should stop. It was, indeed, 
Prince Sagramor and his knights, who were follow- 
ing fast. The Professor galloped more furiously 
than ever when he ascertained the truth, and Sir 
Bleoberis and Ysolt kept pace with him. 

Just as they reached the drawbridge, however, 
they were overtaken ; and, as it was raised, they 
were compelled to stop and meet the Prince face to 
face. The Professor hurriedly called to the warder 
to lower the bridge, so that Ysolt could take refuge 
in the castle. Then he turned, and determined to 
make the best of the situation. The Prince was 
disposed to be conciliatory. 

" We came," he said, " to escort you back again. 
We have a guard of honor here fitting for any 

"You are uncommonly kind," replied the Pro- 
fessor, " but the parade is rather unnecessary. I 
am not going back just at present." 

" I promised Bragwaine that you would return 
with us," said the Prince, sternly. 

" Well, you ought not to make rash promises," 
replied the Professor, with firmness. 


" You will go, of course ? " 

" Of course I will not go." 

" Bragwaine is waiting for you." 

" That," said the Professor, " is a matter of jDcr- 
fect indifference to me." 

" I will not be trifled with, sir," said the Prince, 

" Nor will I," exclaimed the Professor. " Let us 
understand one another. I do not wish to marry 
any one. I did not ask your daughter to marry 
me, and I have never consented to the union. I 
tell you now that I positively and absolutely refuse 
to be forced to marry her or any other woman. I 
will do as I please about it ; not as you please." 

" Seize him," shrieked the Prince to his attendgjats. 

" Stand off," said the Professor, presenting his 
revolver. " I'll kill the man who approaches me. 
I shall put up with this foolishness no longer," 

One of the knights rode toward him. The Pro- 
fessor fired, and the cavalier's horse rolled in the 
dust. The Prince and his people were stupefied 
with astonishment. 

At this juncture, Baron Bors, Sir Dinadan, Sir 
Agravaine, Sir Bleoberis, and Miss Baffin emerged 
from the castle. Miss Baffin flew to her father, 
and flung her arms about him. The Professor 
kissed her tenderly, and as he did so, his eye 
caught sight of the wire of the telephone which he 
had arranged for Ysolt and Sir Bleoberis. A 


happy thought struck him. Advancing, he said to 
the Prince : 

" It is useless for us to quarrel over this matter. 
Baron Bors has here an oracle. Let us consult 

Then the Professor whispered something to Miss 
Baffin, who withdrew unobserved and went into 
the castle. 

The Prince was at first indisposed to conde- 
scend to accept the offer, but his curiosity finally 
overcame his pride. 

" Step this way," said the Professor. " Ask your 
questions through this," handing him the mouth- 
piece, " and put this to your ear for the answer." 

" What shall I say ? " inquired the Prince. 

"Ask if it is right that I should marry your 

The Prince put the question, and the answer 

" What does the oracle say ? " asked the Pro- 

"It says you shall not," replied the Prince, look- 
ing a good deal scared. 

" Are you satisfied .■' " said the Professor. 

The Prince did not answer, but he looked as if 
he suspected a trick of some kind, and would like 
to impale Professor Baffin with his lance, if he 

He was about to turn away in disgust, when Sir 


Agravaine, who stood beside him, in a few half- 
whispered words explained to him the method by 
which the Professor had imposed upon him. 

In a raging fury, the Prince rode up to the Pro- 
fessor, and would have assailed him; but Baron 
Bors advanced and said : 

" This gentleman is unarmed, and unused to our 
methods of combat. He is my guest, and he has 
saved my daughter. I will fight his battles." 

The Prince threw his glove at the Baron's feet. 
Baron Bors called for his armor and his horse, and 
when he was ready he took his place opposite to 
his antagonist, and waited the signal for the 

" This," said the Professor, " is probably the 
most asinine proceeding upon record. Because I 
won't marry Sagramor's daughter, Sagramor is 
going to fight with a man who never saw his 

The combat was not a long one. At the first 
shock both knights were unhorsed ; but, drawing 
their swords, they rushed together and hacked at 
each other until the sparks fliew in showers from 
their armor. 

The Baron fought well, but presently the 
Prince's sword struck his shoulder with a blow 
which carried the blade down through the steel 
plate, and caused the blood to spurt forth. The 
Baron fell to the earth ; and Prince Sagramor, 

AT THE F1K8T Suu< K uoi u Kmuh.s wkkk Unhokskd. Page! 


remembering the small number of his attendants, 
and the probability that he might be assailed by 
the Baron's people, mounted his horse and slowly 
trotted away without deigning to look at Professor 
Baffin. They carried the Baron tenderly into the 
castle, and put him to bed. The wound was a terrible 
one, and the Professor perceived that the chances 
of his recovery, under the rude medical treatment 
that could be obtained, were not very favorable. 
After doing what he could to help the sufferer, he 
withdrew from the room, and left the Baron with 
Lady Bors and the medical practitioner who was 
ordinarily employed by the family. 

Miss Baffin, with Sir Dinadan, awaited her father 
in the hall. This was the first opportunity he had 
had to greet her. After some preliminary conver- 
sation, and after the Professor had expressed to Sir 
Dinadan his regret that the Baron should have 
been injured, the Professor said : 

"And now, Tilly, my love, how have you been 
employing yourself during my absence .-'" 

Miss Baffin blushed. 

" Have you kept the journal regularly ? " asked 
the Professor. 

" Not so very regularly," replied Miss Baffin. 

" I have a number of interesting and extraor- 
dinary things for you to record," said the Professor. 
*' Has nothing of a remarkable character happened 
here during my absence .-' " 


" Oh, yes," said Miss Baffin. 

" I have learned to smoke," said Sir Dinadan. 

" Indeed," said the Professor with a slight pang. 
" And how many cigars have you smoked } " 

" Only one," replied the Knight. " It made me 
ill for two days. I think, perhaps, I shall give up 

" I would advise you to. It is a bad habit," said 
the Professor, " and expensive. And then, you 
know, cigars are so dreadfully scarce, too." 

** The Lady Tilly was very kind to me while I 
was ill. I believe I was delirious once or twice ; 
and I was so touched by her sweet patience that I 
again proposed to her." 

" While you were delirious .-' " asked the Profes- 

" Oh, no ; when I had recovered." 

" What did you say to that, Tilly } " asked Pro- 
fessor Baffin. 

" I referred him to you," replied Miss Baffin. 

"But what will the Baron say.?" asked the 

" He and my mother have given their consent," 
said Sir Dinadan. "They declared that I could 
not have pleased them better than by making such 
a choice." 

" Well, I don't know," said the Professor, reflec- 
tively. " I like you first-rate, and if I felt certain 
we were going to stay here — " 


" I will go with you if you leave the island," said 
Sir Dinadan, eagerly. 

"And then you know, Din," continued the Pro- 
fessor familiarly, "Tilly is highly educated, while 
you — Well, you know you must learn to read, and 
write, and cipher, the very first thing." 

" I have been giving him lessons while you were 
away," said Miss Baffin. 

" How does he get along .'' " 

" Quite well. He can do short division with a 
little help, andijie has learned as far as the eighth 
line in the multiplication table." 

"Eight eights are sixty-four, eight nines are 
seventy-two, eight tens are eighty," said Sir Din- 
adan, triumphantly. 

" Well," said the Professor, " if Tilly loves you, 
and you love Tilly, I shall make no objection." 

"Oh, thank you," exclaimed both of the lovers. 

" But, I tell you what, Din, you are getting a 
good bargain. There is no finer girl, or a smarter 
one either, on the globe. You people here cannot 
half appreciate her." 

For more than a week. Baron -Bors failed to 
show any signs of improvement, and the Professor 
thought he perceived clearly that his case was fast 
getting beyond hope. He deemed it prudent, how- 
ever, to keep his opinion from the members of 
the Baron's family. But the Baron himself soon 
reached the same conclusion, and one day Lady 


Bors came out of his room to summon Sir Dln- 
adan, Ysolt, Sir Bleoberis, who was now formally 
betrothed to Ysolt, and the Professor, to the 
Baron's bedside. 

The Baron said to them, in a feeble voice, that 
he felt his end approaching, and that he desired to 
give some instructions, and to say farewell to his 
family. Then he addressed himself first to Sir 
Dinadan, and next to Ysolt. When he had finished 
speaking to them he said to Lady Bors, — 

" And now, Ettard, a final word to you. I am 
going away, and you will need another friend, 
protector, companion, husband. Have you ever 
thought of any one whom you should like, other 
than me .'' " 

" Never, never, never," said Lady Bors, sobbing. 

"Let me advise you, then. Who would be more 
likely to fill ray place in your heart acceptably than 
our good and wise and wonderful friend Sir Baf- 

" Good gracious ! " exclaimed the Professor with 
a start. 

" Your son is to marry his daughter ; and she 
will be happy to be here with him in the castle. 
Promise me that you will try to love him." 

" Yes, I will try," said Lady Bors, wiping her 
eyes and seeming, upon the whole, rather more 

" That," said the Baron, " does not altogether 


satisfy me. I place upon you my command that 
you shall marry him. Will you consent to obey ? " 

" I will consent to anything, so that your last 
hour may be happier," said Lady Bors with an air 
of resignation. She was supported during the 
trial, perhaps, by the reflection that in dealing with 
lumbago Professor Baffin had no superior in the 

Father Anselm was announced. " Withdraw, 
now," said the Baron to all of his family but Lady 
Bors. " I must speak with the Hermit." 

Professor Baffin encountered the Hermit at the 
door. The holy man stopped long enough to say 
that a huge ship had come near to the shore upon 
which the Professor had landed, and that it was 
anchored there. From its mast. Father Anselm 
said, fluttered a banner of red and white stripes 
with a starry field of blue. 

The Professor's heart beat fast. For a moment 
he could hardly control his emotion. He resolved 
to go at once to the shore and to take his daughter 
with him. Withdrawing her from her companions 
the two strolled slowly out from the castle into the 
park. Then, hastening their steps, they passed 
towards the shore. In a few moments they 
reached it, and there, sure enough, they saw a 
barque at anchor, while from her mast-head floated 
the American flag. 

A boat belonging to the barque had come to 


the shore to obtain water from the stream. Pro- 
fessor Baffin entered into conversation with the 
officer who commanded the boat. The vessel 
proved to be the Mary L. Simpson, of Martha's 
Vineyard, bound from the Azores to New York. 
When the Professor had explained to the officer 
that he and his daughter were Americans, the 
mate invited them to come aboard so that he could, 
introduce them to the captain. 

" Shall we go, my child .-* " asked the Professor. 

" If we can return in a very few moments, we 
might go," said Miss Baffin. 

They entered the boat, and when they reached 
the vessel, they were warmly greeted by Captain' 

While they were talking with him in his cabin 
the air suddenly darkened, and the captain rushed 
out upon deck. Almost before he reached it a 
terrific gale struck the barque, and she began to 
drag her anchors. Fortunately the wind blew off 
shore, and the captain, weighing anchor, let the 
barque drive right out to sea. The Professor was 
about to remark to Miss Baffin that he feared there 
was small chance of his ever seeing the island 
again, when a lurch of the vessel threw him over. 
His head struck the sharp corner of the captain's 
chest, and he became unconscious. 

When Professor Baffin regained his senses, he 
found that he was lying in a berth in a ship's cabin. 
Some one was sitting beside him, — r 


" Is that you, Tilly ? " he asked, in a faint voice. 

"Yes, pa; I am glad you are conscious again. 
Can I give you anything ^ " 

" Have I been long unconscious, Tilly ? " 

" You have been very ill for several days ; delir- 
ious sometimes." 

" Is the captain going back to the island ? " 

" Going back to the w/iat, pa .-* " 

" To the Island. It must have seemed dread- 
fully heartless for us to leave the castle while the 
Baron was dying." 

" While the Baron was dying ! What do you 
mean .-' " 

" Why, Baron Bors could not have lived much 
longer. I am afraid Sir Dinadan will think hard 
of us." 

" I haven't the least idea what you are talking 
about. Poor pa ! your mind is beginning to wan- 
der again. Turn over, and try to go to sleep." 

Professor Baffin was silent for a moment. Then 
he said, — 

" Tilly, do you mean to say you never heard of 
Baron Bors .? " 

" Never." 

" And that you were never engaged to Sir Din- 
adan .? " 

" Pa, how absurd ! Who are these people .-• " 

" Were you not upon the island with me, at the 
castle ? " 


" How could we have gone upon an island, pa, 
when we were taken from the raft by the ship ? " 

" Tilly, my child, when I get perfectly well I 
shall have to tell you of the most extraordinary 
series of circumstances that has come under my 
observation during the whole course of my ex- 
istence ! " 

Then Professor Baffin closed his eyes and fell 
into a doze, and Miss Baffin went up to tell the 
surgeon of the ship Unditte, from Philadelphia to 
Glasgow, that her father seemed to be getting 


^n Account of some of tfje Unfjaljitants Cljcreof. 




i'CCUPYING a very comfortable position in 
an eas3'--chair, Mr. Cowdrick, banker, sat 
in his library before a blazing fire. 

The Fate that arranges coincidences, and pro- 
vides for the fitness of things, could not have 
persuaded Mr. Cowdrick to choose a more charac- 
teristic method of warming himself; for it was a 
sham fire. Some skilful worker in clay had pro- 
duced a counterfeit presentment of a heap of logs, 
with the bark, the bits of moss, the knots, and the 
drops of sap exuding from the ends, all admirably 
imitative of nature. But the logs were hollow, and 
a hidden pipe, upon occasion, filled them with gas, 
which, as it escaped through imperceptible holes, 
was ignited, to burn as though it fed upon the 
inconsumable logs. 

The library room was handsomely decorated in 
accordance with the prevailing modes. Upon the 



wall were fastened porcelain plates, bearing beauti- 
ful designs, but wholly useless for the purpose for 
which plates were originally devised. Mr. Cow- 
drick realized that as a mere matter of reason it 
would be as sensible to put a fireplace in the ceil- 
ing, or to cover his library table with the door-mat, 
as to adorn his wall with a dinner-plate ; but, like 
some of the rest of us Mr. Cowdrick surrendered 
his private convictions to the suggestions of 

Upon Mr, Cowdrick's shelves and mantels were 
cups and saucers of curious wares, which were to 
be looked at and not used ; and in his cabinets 
were jugs and bottles, which existed that they 
might contribute to the pleasure of the eye rather 
than to the pleasure of the palate. The book- 
cases, made with the best art of the workman, after 
the most approved designs, were filled with richly- 
bound volumes, into which Mr, Cowdrick had 
never cared to look since he bought them by the 
cubic foot ; and which, in some instances, con- 
sidered themes which would not have interested 
the banker in the slightest degree, even if he had 
examined them, and had been gifted with the ca- 
pacity to comprehend them. 

Upon the mantel ticked a clock, so fine that it 
had to be kept under glass, and which had never 
been known to indicate the time correctly during 
twenty-four consecutive hours. The chairs and the 


sofas were made of material so costly that Mrs. 
Cowdrick had them draped continually in closely- 
fitting brown-linen covers, so that, in fact, it was 
somewhat difficult to comprehend why the expen- 
sive and delicate fabrics beneath should have 
been employed at all, seeing that they were per- 
petually doomed to hide their loveliness. 

Mr. Cowdrick sat looking at the deceitful fire in 
front of him, and as he mused he smoked an ex- 
cellent cigar. His reverie was presently disturbed 
by the entrance of Mrs. Cowdrick to the room. 
Mrs. Cowdrick was a woman in middle life, of 
rounded figure and pleasing face ; and she was 
clad, at this moment, in rich and tasteful dress. 
She held in her hand a bit of canvas, upon which 
she was working, in worsted, a pattern which was 
intended to convey to the observer the impression 
that it was of Japanese origin ; but really it was as 
great a sham as Mr. Cowdrick's fire. 

Mrs. Cowdrick drew a chair near to that of her 
husband. Her first act, when she had taken her 
seat, was to clap her hands vigorously together 
two or three times, in ineffectual efforts to catch 
and to crush a fluttering moth-fly. 

This is a form of exercise that is very dear to the 
female heart, but rarely is it productive of any 
practical results. Calculated in horse-powers, it 
may fairly be estimated that the amount of force 
expended annually by the sex upon the work of 


annihilating moth-flies would be sufficient to raise 
one pound two hundred thousand feet high, if 
any one cared to have a pound at such an 
elevation ; while it is probable that the number of 
moth-flies actually taken upon the wing within the 
boundaries of civilization, does not in any one year 
exceed a few hundreds. 

When she had concluded her efforts, without at 
all injuring the insect, Mrs. Cowdrick resumed her 
worsted attempt to insult Japanese art, and, as she 
did so, Mr. Cowdrick, turning his head about 
lazily, as he sent a whiff" of smoke into the air, said, — 

" Annie, dear, where is Leonie ? " 

" She is in her room, I think," replied Mrs. Cow- 
drick, pleasantly. " She will be down in a few 

** I wish to have a little talk with you about her, 
my love," said Mr. Cowdrick. " I have been think- 
ing that it is high time Leonie had found a hus- 
band. Let me see ; how old is she now ? " 

" In her twenty-ninth year, really," replied Mrs. 
Cowdrick ; " but then, you know, she does not 
acknowledge more than twenty-five years to her 
friends. Leonie is an exceedingly prudent girl." 

"But, of course," remarked Mr. Cowdrick, "she 
cannot keep that up forever. As she grows older 
she will have to allow a year or two, every now and 
then ; and, after a while, you know, people will 
begin to count for themselves." 


" I have urged that upon her," said Mrs. Covv- 
drick, "and I think she fully realizes it. Her hair 
is becoming thinner every week, and there would 
be no hope of her hiding the truth if the fashion 
did not permit her easily to cover the bald place 
upon the top of her head." 

" She is no longer the young girl she once was," 
said Mr. Cowdrick with an air of sadness which 
seemed to indicate his disappointment at the re- 
fusal of Time to make an exception in the case of 

"No," said Mrs. Cowdrick ; "she is beginning to 
ascertain that she has nerves, and she has to take 
iron every morning. At the pic-nic in September 
, she tried to appear as girlish as she could ; but I 
noticed, while she was skipping the rope with those 
little chits of Mrs. Parker's, that she would catch 
her breath convulsively every time she went up; 
and you know she was in bed with lumbago for 
three days afterward." 

" She must marry," said Mr. Cowdrick, with 
emphasis. " The case is getting desperate. I will 
speak to her about it to-night. I wish her, before 
I quit home, to have herself engaged to some one 
who is able to support her handsomely." 

" How soon will it be necessary for you to fly ? " 
asked Mrs. Cowdrick. 

" Before the end of next week, at the very latest. 
Matters are fast approaching a crisis at the bank. 


We might have pulled through after the failure of 
Snell and Adam, to whom, as one of the directors 
was a partner, we lent a large sum upon bogus 
collateral ; and I did not despair even when Pin- 
yard, Moon and Company, with whom I had a 
silent interest, went under just after obtaining that 
last hundred thousand of us ; but I heard to-day 
that J. P, Hunn and Co. are very much embar- 
rassed, and as we have hypothecated some good 
collaterals deposited with us by our best custom- 
ers in order to keep Hunn on his legs, his failure 
will inevitably result in the exposure of the whole 

"And how much, dear, is the bank short .-' " asked 
Mrs. Cowdrick, kindly. 

"A full million and a quarter at the lowest esti- 
mate. We can't tell exactly, because the accounts 
have been so much falsified to hide the deficiency. 
But the capital has gone, and with it the bulk of 
the money belonging to the depositors ; and as I 
say, a whole lot of collateral securities, placed in 
our hands by some of the best men in town. It's 
a bad business ! They will make it hot for us, I 
am afraid." 

" But then, dear, you will save something from 
the wreck, you said .-' " 

" Oh, yes ! Pinyard told me that he thought he 
and I would come out with two or three hundred 
thousand apiece, if we can manage the creditors of 


his firm so that they will take twenty-five per cent, 
of their claims in settlement. That, however, is 
only a possibility." 

" If the crash is coming so soon," said Mrs. Cow- 
drick, with a thoughtful air, " there are some little 
things I should like to get at once." 

" What are they .? " 

"Why, you know, Henry, I want a sealskin 
sacque for this winter, and I had thought of buying 
a pair of plain diamond earrings. Couldn't I get 
them, say to-morrow, and have them charged, and 
then let the dealers just come in with the rest of 
your creditors when you arrange a settlement ? " 

" Certainly, my love ! get them immediately, of 
course. It is your last chance. I have not yet 
gotten into such a position that I cannot provide 
comforts for my family ! Tell Leonie to make any 
little purchases she may need, also. I might as 
well go to ruin for a large amount as for a small 
one. A few hundreds more or less will not mat- 

As Mr. Cowdrick spoke, Leonie entered the 
room. She was elegantly and fashionably dressed, 
and her face was wreathed with smiles. She ran 
up to her father as a child might have done, and 
with a girlish laugh kissed him ; then, drawing a 
footstool close to him, she sat down beside him and 
placed her arm upon his knee. Mr. Cowdrick 
stroked her head affectionately, with a tenderness 


that was partly induced by fondness and partly by 
a recollection of what Mrs. Cowdrick had said of 
Leonie's method of disguising the bare place upon 
her crown. 

After reflecting for a moment in silence, Mr. 
Cowdrick said, — 

" I want to ask my little girl if she has lost her 
heart to any one yet .-' " 

Leonie blushed, and straightening herself up she 
said nervously, but with traces of a smile about her 
lips, — 

" Lost my heart, papa ! What do you mean ? " 

" I mean, my dear child, that it is high time you 
had obtained a husband and settled yourself for 
life. It i's important you should marry as speedily 
as possible." 

" Oh, papa ! " said Leonie, hiding her face in her 

" To speak plainly, darling," said Mr. Cowdrick, 
" your poor father's affairs are in such a condition 
that a judicious matrimonial alliance is almost neces- 
sary to your future happiness. You understand me, 
of course ; I am not at all sure of my financial future." 

" I am very sorry," said Leonie. 

'* Of course you are," replied Mr. Cowdrick, " but 
being sorry is not enough. I should bear the calam- 
ity, when it comes, much more bravely if I were 
assured that my dear child had a good and affluent 
husband to console her amid the troubles that will 

LEONIE. 115 

befall her family. Is there no one to whom you 
could give your affection if you tried ? If you tried 
right hard, just to please your poor old papa ? " 

Leonie hesitated before answering, and then she 
said, — 

" Yes, papa, there is ! " 

" I am glad to hear that ! Who is it, darling ? " 

" You will not be angry with me, papa, if I tell 
you, will you ? I have given my love to some 
one, and that some one is — is — Mr. Weems, the 
artist ! " 

" What ! " exclaimed Mr. Cowdrick, in a voice 
that indicated mingled surprise and indignation. 
" Not Julius Weems, the painter ? " 

" You don't mean to say you are actually en- 
gaged to be married to that young man ? " said 
Mrs. Cowdrick, vehemently. 

" Yes, I am engaged to him," said Leonie, putting 
her forehead down upon the arm of her father's 
chair. " He proposed to me on Tuesday, while 
you were at the opera," 

" And you love him ? " asked Mr. Cowdrick. 

" Oh, yes," replied Leonie, " I love him ; of course 
I love him, or I never would have accepted him. 
But I don't mean to say, positively and finally, that 
I would refuse a better chance if it presented itself. 
Julius is the only person who seems likely to want 
me, and certainly he is a great deal better than no- 


" Yes ; but, my dear child," observed Mr. Cow- 
drick, "a mere husband is nothing. The circum- 
stances of the husband are everything." 

" And Mr. Weems is poor as poverty," added 
Mrs. Cowdrick. 

" Oh, no, mamma, you are mistaken," said 
Leonie. "Julius is in very comfortable circum- 
stances. He has a very profitable business." 

" He has, has he .? " said Mr. Cowdrick. " Well, 
I can't imagine where it can be, I never have 
seen any of his pictures." 

" Why, papa," rejoined Leonie with a slight 
laugh. "Julius says that you have two of his 
best works in your gallery." 

" I have," exclaimed Mr. Cowdrick, in astonish- 
ment. " I think not." 

" He says so, at any rate." 

" Which are they .? " 

" Why, the ' Leader and the Swan,' by Correggio, 
and the * St. Lawrence,' by Titian." 

" Leonie, that is ridiculous," said Mr. Cowdrick, 

" Perfectly absurd," remarked Mrs. Cowdrick. 

" But Julius declares he really did paint them. 
He says he paints nothing but 'old masters ' ; that 
they bring the best prices, and that there is always 
an active demand for them. He wants me to 
come to his studio to see a splendid Murillo he 
has just finished. He is making money rapidly." 

LEONIE. 1 1 7 

" In that case, Leonie," said Mr. Covvdrick, with 
a slight touch of bitterness, as he thought of the 
prices he had paid for his Correggio and his Titian, 
but with a certain cheerfulness, gained from his 
suddenly formed resolution to realize on them to- 
morrow — " in that case, we must regard Mr. 
Weems differently. He appears at least to be an 
enterprising young man, and possibly he may do 

"You had better arrange to see him at once, 
dear," said Mrs. Cowdrick, " so that you can ascer- 
tain what his income is, and how soon the wedding 
can be arranged." 

" I will do so," replied Mr. Cowdrick. " But my 
child, did you tell him anything ? Does he know 
that you have already been engaged three times ? 
Does he know that you were affianced to old Mr. 
Baxter, who gained your affection under the pre- 
tence that he was a millionaire, only to tread upon 
the holiest of your emotions with the scandalous 
revelation that he was living upon a paltry pen- 
sion } " 

" No, papa, I did not think it worth while to 
disturb Julius with such matters as that. What 
does he care for my past .-* No more than I care 
for his ! " 

" Do you think he suspects your age, dear } " 
asked Mrs. Cowdrick. 

" I am certain he does not. You know I falsi- 


fied the date in the family Bible, and last evening I 
got him to look over it with me, under pretense of 
searching for a text. When I showed him the 
record, laughingly, he pretended to be surprised. 
He said he should never have supposed me to be a 
day over twenty-three." 

Mr. Cowdrick slowly winked that one of his eyes 
which was upon the side towards his wife, and then 
he said, — 

" Well, Leonie, we will see about it. There are 
some things about the match to recommend it, 
although I cannot say Weems is precisely the 
man I should have chosen for you. However, you 
are the person who is most deeply interested, and 
I suppose we must let you choose for yourself. I 
wish you would ask Mr. Weems to call to see me 
to-morrow evening concerning the matter." 

" He will be here to-night, papa," replied Leonie. 
" He said he would call to make a formal proposal 
for my hand." 

" Very well ; that will do nicely. The sooner 
we reach a distinct understanding, the better." 

Before many moments had elapsed, Mr. Julius 
Weems was announced by the servant, whereupon 
Mrs. Cowdrick and Leonie withdrew. When Mr. 
Weems entered the room, Mr. Cowdrick greeted 
him politely, but with dignified gravity. Mr. 
Weems was somewhat nervous. Mr, Cowdrick 
clearly perceived that he had reduced himself to a 

LEONIE. 1 19 

condition of misery with a resolution to obtain, if 
possible during this visit, the paternal blessing upon 
his proposed alliance with Leonie, 

The current theory is that the most difficult of 
the processes by which the state of marriage is ap- 
proached, is the first declaration of affection to the 
object of it ; and it may be possible that most men, 
upon reviewing their conduct upon such occasions, 
are inclined to believe that they made fools of 
themselves. But, as a matter of fact, it is nearly 
certain that those who make a careful survey of 
their experiences will be likely to admit that the 
most trying ordeal through which the lover is com- 
pelled to go is that of ascertaining whsPt opinion of 
the matter is held by the father of his sweetheart. 
If there is a reasonable certainty that the loved one 
will accept him, he is at least sure of the most acute 
and delicious sympathy when he summons up 
courage enough to take her little hand in his and 
to give voice to his feelings ; and the difference of 
sex enables the performance to assume the most 
romantic aspect. But to face a cold, practical man 
of the world with a lot of sentiment, and to plunge 
boldly into an explanation to Kim of a fervid passion 
which he regards in the prosiest fashion possible, 
requires bravery of a very high order. And the 
man who can approach such a task with perfect 
self-possession, and positive command of his mental 
faculties and of his utterance, has a nervous system 
that ordinary men may envy. 


For a moment after Mr. Weems seated himself 
upon the other side of the fire-place from Mr. Cow- 
drick, there was an embarrassing silence. Then 
Mr. Cowdrick, to open the way for his visitor, re- 
marked that it had been a very disagreeable day. 

" Very," said Mr. Weems. " Uncommonly damp 
and chilly, even for this time of year." 

" Yesterday was far from pleasant also," observed 
Mr. Cowdrick. 

" Wasn't it abominable } " replied Mr. Weems. 
" There will be a great deal of sickness if this kind 
of weather continues." 

** The prospect," rejoined Mr. Cowdrick, " is that 
it will. There are no signs of a clear day to-mor- 

*• I'm afraid not," returned Mr. Weems. 

Then Mr, Cowdrick looked into the fire, and 
relapsed into silence. The weather of the past, 
the present, and the future having been considered, 
there really seemed to be nothing more to be said 
upon that particular topic. It would be curious to 
ascertain what men, who are in a stress for some- 
thing to talk about, fall back upon in those regions 
where there is steadfast sunshine during half of 
every year, and unremitting rain during the other 

"How is Miss Leonie.''" said Mr. Weems, sud- 
denly, and with an air of desperation. 

" Quite well, thank you," answered Mr. Cow- 


"Well, Mr. Cowdrick, I called this evening to 
speak to you about her," continued Weems, with a 
determination to make the plunge and have it over. 


" Yes, sir. In fact, Mr. Cowdrick, your daughter 
has consented to become my wife, and I wish to 
obtain, if I may, your approval of the match. May 
I have it ? " 

" Really, Mr. Weems, this is so unexpected. I 
was so little prepared for such an announcement 

that I hardly know what . My answer would 

depend somewhat upon circumstances, I may say, 
I have no objection to you personally ; but I know 
nothing of your prospects in your profession." 

" They are first-rate. I sold a picture to-day for 
five thousand dollars ; and that is by no means an 
infrequent occurrence." 

" Who bought it .? " 

" St. Cadmus's church. It is an altar piece ; 
very handsome and old ; by Michael Angelo. You 
see, I give you my secret ; in confidence, of course." 

"Yes," said Mr. Cowdrick, "I am a regular 
attendant at St. Cadmus's and I was one of four 
subscribers for that picture. The balance of the 
amount we made up by mortgaging the organ. 
Mr. Tunicle, the incumbent, said it was indisputably 

" Oh, well," said Mr. Weems, laughing ; " if it 
looks like a genuine one, and everybody thinks it is 


genuine, what difference is there ? The people are 
every bit as happy as if it were real. If one of my 
pictures sells better with the name of some old 
chap who has been dead for two or three centuries 
tagged to it, why shouldn't I let it go in that way ? 
It does not hurt him, and it helps me." 

" From your point of view the theory is excel- 
lent ; but from mine, as the owner of a couple of 
old masters, it looks a little thin." 

" Well, to be fair," said Mr. Weems, " I acknowl- 
edge that I painted those you have, but I am will- 
ing to find you a market for them, to oblige you ; 
or I will sell you two or three more, if you prefer 
it. I have just run off a fine Salvator Rosa, and a 
Titian, as kind of ' pot-boilers,' and you can have 
them for almost nothing if you want them," 

"Thank you, no," said Mr. Cowdrick. "My 
interest in art is gradually cooling off. And then, 
besides, if you are going to turn out pictures every 
time you want a suit of clothes, or a box of cigars, 
it seems likely there will soon be a glut of old mas- 
ters in the market." 

" But to come back to the point, Mr. Cowdrick," 
said Mr. Weems. " What may I accept as your 
decision respecting my claim to your daughter's 
hand .? " 

" Have you ever had an affair of this kind be- 
fore, Mr. Weems .-• Pardon me for asking. Is 
Leonie your first love •■' " 


" Well, you know, every man does foolish things 
in his youth. I have been involved in one or two 
trifling matters of the sort. But I am a careful 
man, and to avoid any unpleasant demonstrations 
in the future, I have procured formal decrees of 
divorce from eleven different girls ; all, in fact, 
with whom I have ever had any acquaintance that 
was at all sentimental. I obtained six decrees 
from the State of Indiana, at a cost of ten dollars 
apiece, and the remainder from Utah, at a little 
higher rate." 

" And you were never married to any of the 
parties .-* " 

" Oh, no ! merely knew them ; took them out 
driving, or danced with them at balls. Some of 
them are married to other men. But, you know, a 
man is never certain what may happen ; women 
are so queer ; and so I concluded to destroy all 
the chances of anything turning up, and I have 
the legal documents to show for it. Leonie's hap- 
piness is perfectly safe with me, I assure you." 

"Your course seems to me a prudent one, at 
any rate," remarked Mr. Cowdrick ; " but then, of 
course, it is possible for a man to be a little too 
far-sighted for the comfort of other people. How 
do I know, for instance, that you haven't taken 
the precaution to file away among your papers a 
divorce from Leonie } " 

"Oh, well," said Mr. Weems, laughing, "you 


know I wouldn't go quite that far. I admit that 
I have half a dozen blank decrees, which I can 
fill up to meet emergencies, but I pledge you my 
word of honor that I will never put her name in 
one. I love her too dearly." 

" Do you believe you would love her if she were 
poor ; or if she were to become poor ? " 

" Yes, certainly ; of course," answered Mr. 
Weems. And then he added mentally, " I wonder 
if anything is the matter .-• I'll inquire about the 
old man's financial standing the first thing in the 

"Well," said Mr. Cowdrick, "I hardly know. 
Leonie is very dear to me. I have not contem- 
plated an early marriage for her. It would be a 
terrible wrench upon my heartstrings. What 
would'you do if I refused my consent.-*" 

" Try to submit with what patience I could 
command, I suppose. But you will not refuse, will 
you i 

Mr. Cowdrick did not respond at once. He had 
rather cherished the hope that Weems would elope 
with Leonie, and save him the expense of a wed- 
ding outfit and of a wedding festival, besides re- 
lieving him of all responsibility. But he saw now 
that it would not be safe to take the chances. 

" Well, Mr. Weems," he ^id, at length, " so far as 
I am concerned, I think I may say that if Leonie 
wishes to marry you, she can. But we must ask 


her mother about it. It will be a terrible shock to 
poor Mrs. Covvdrick, I will call her in." 

When Mrs. Cowdrick entered the room with 
Leonie, Mr. Cowdrick said, — 

" My dear, Mr. Weems, here, has formally pro- 
posed for the hand of Leonie, and I have given my 
consent, provided you also would do so." 

Mrs. Cowdrick replied by a shriek, after which 
she flung herself into a chair, and, with an expen- 
sive handkerchief to her face, she sobbed hysteric- 

" Ma is doing that to show how well she can 
pose," said Leonie, in a whisper to Weems. " She 
used to be splendid in private theatricals." 

Mrs. Cowdrick sprang up, and in tones of appar- 
ently intense excitement she said, — " No, no ! I 
cannot let her go ! It is impossible ! It is so unex- 
pected, so sudden ! My child, my poor, darling 
child ! To be torn ruthlessly from the arms of her 
dear mother ! I cannot bear it ! It will kill me ! " 
and Mrs. Cowdrick flung her arms wildly about 
Leonie and wept. 

Leonie seemed quite calm. She lowered her 
shoulder slightly, to incline her mother's head, so 
that her tears would fall upon the floor instead of 
upon her dress. 

Mr. Cowdrick comforted her, reasoned with her, 
and showed her that, after all, Leonie's happiness 
was at stake. To promote her happiness, her par- 


ents must be willing to make some sacrifices, and 
she must try to brace herself to meet the trial, hard 
as it was. Mrs. Cowdrick's agitation gradually de- 
creased, as her husband spoke ; and when she had 
rested upon the sofa for a moment, and helped her 
nerves by inhaling salts from a gilded smelling-bot- 
tle, she said : 

" If it must be, it must ! Take her, Julius ! Take 
her, and love her, and cherish her, so that she will 
never rue having been torn from the parental 
nest ! " 

" I promise you faithfully to do my best," replied 
Mr. Weems. 

" And now, my children," said Mr. Cowdrick, as 
his voice trembled with emotion, " I give you an 
old man's blessing ! May you be happy in each 
other's love until life shall end !" 

Then Mr. Cowdrick wiped his eyes, and taking 
Mrs. Cowdrick on his arm, they went upstairs to 
discuss some method by which the marriage could 
be celebrated before the crash came at the bank. 

"And you are mine at last, darling ! " said Mr. 
Weems, as he pushed his chair up close to Leo- 
nie's and took her hand in his. 

In reply she nestled her head up against his 
shoulder, and her thoughts went out dreamily over 
the past. Old Mr. Baxter and her two other lovers 
had made precisely the same remark to her under 
similar circumstances, and she had responded to 


them in the same manner. Life is an endless 
round of repetitions. 

"Sweet face!" said Mr, Weems, patting it ten- 
derly, as if he were a trifle uncertain of the perma- 
nent nature of the color. " Did you know, dar- 
ling, that I put your face in one of my recent 
pictures .-' " 

" Oh, Julius ! Did you } " 

" Yes, dear, I gave it to my full length of St. 
Ethelberta, by Rubens." 

" Is it a good likeness ? " 

" I think it is. But," said Mr. Weems thought- 
fully, " it didn't sell ! That is, I mean, no person 
of really good taste has inspected it yet." 

" And you painted it because you loved me, did 
you ? " 

" Oh, yes ! Certainly ! Of course ! " 

" How fortunate it was that I could return your 
love, wasn't it .'' Julius, what would you have done 
if I had refused you .'' " 

" Done ? Why, it would have mortified me dread- 
fully. I don't believe I should have had any ap- 
petite for a week or more." 

" Some disappointed lovers," said Leonie almost 
reproachfully, and with an air of chagrin, " become 
utterly desperate and try to take their own lives." 

" Oh, I know," replied Mr. Weems. " Dreadful, 
isn't it } But I generally try to bear up under 
misery. It's a duty." 


" Could you bear misery for my sake, Julius ? 
Do you think your love would endure if poverty 
should overtake us? Bitter, blinding poverty?" 

" I am sure I could," replied Mr. Weems with a 
renewed determination to discover in the morning 
if Mr. Cowdrick's credit had been impaired. 

" You believe, then, that love in a cottage is a 
possibility, do you, dear ? " asked Leonie. 

" Yes, darling ; possible, but not fascinating. 
My observation is that love, upon the whole, has a 
better chance in a commodious mansion with all of 
the modern conveniences ; with gas, water and a 
boy to answer the front-door bell. Love, darling, is 
like some other things in this world — it thrives 
better when it is comfortable." 

" Have you thought about our wedding, dear ? " 
asked Leonie. " Where will we go upon our wed- 
ding journey ? Wouldn't it be splendid to take a 
trip to Europe ? " 

The suggestion did not seem to excite any great 
amount of enthusiasm in the heart of Mr. Weems. 
He said : " It would be very nice, but I am afraid 
it would be almost too expensive, unless your pa — 
Did your pa say anything about it ? " asked Julius, 
with a faint expectation that Mr. Cowdrick Tiiay 
have intended to include a handsome cheque among 
the presents. 

" No," replied Leonie ; " he said nothing, Only 
I thought may-be you might want to go." 


" So I do, my love, but business is a trifle dull 
just now. I am afraid we shall have to wait until 
the prevailing prejudice against Rubens and St. 
Ethelberta blows over, as it were. I thought per- 
haps we might make a short trip to Boston and 
back. How would that suit you .'' " 

" I would be satisfied with it, dear, of course," 
said Leonie. 

Mr. Weems heard her answer with the serene 
consciousness that he had a free pass for two over 
that particular route, and that even upon a wed- 
ding journey there would be no need to be actually 
riotous in the matter of hotel expenses. 

"And when we get home, and settle down, may 
I keep a parrot, Julius ? " 

"Well," replied Mr. Weems, "the question is 
sudden and somewhat irrelevant, but I should think 
you might ; provided, of course, you selected one 
that has not been taught to use profane language, 
and to imitate a screeching wheelbarrow with too 
great accuracy." 

" You are so kind ! And, Julius ? " 

" What, sweet ? " 

" If papa should die, could dear mamma come to 
live with us } " 

" I'll tell you what, Leonie, suppose we postpone 
the consideration of some of these distressins: con- 
tingencies until they actually present themselves ! 
I am perfectly willing to wrestle with a grief when 


it comes, but there is no use of putting crape on a 
door-knocker until there is bereavement in the 
family circle." 

" That is true, dear. And, Julius .-• " 

" Well, my love > " 

" Whenever you can't come to see me, will you 
write to me ? I want you to send me, at least once 
every day, a dear, kind, affectionate letter, full of 
love ; won't you, dear } " 

" I will, if you will promise faithfully to burn 
them," replied Julius, as his prudent mind grasped 
the possibility of some unfortunate future misunder- 
standing, in which ardent love-letters might have a 
damagin geffect upon the case of the defendant. 
" That is, pretty nearly every day." 

"Thus far," continued Leonie, " I have kept all 
that you have written. I have read them over, and 
over, and over, and kissed them again and again. 
The sweet verses you have sent to me I have 
learned by heart." 

" Have you, darling > " said Mr. Weems, with a 
feeling of pride in his success as a poet. 

" Shall I repeat them to you .'' " 

" If you will, dearest," replied Mr. Weems, with 
the air of a man who was conscious that he had 
turned off rather a good thing in the way of verses. 

" Let me see," said Leonie, leaning back in her 
chair, " how do they begin ? Oh, yes !" 


* Sweetheart, if I could surely choose 

The aptest word in passion's speech, 
And all its subtlest meaning use 

With eloquence, your soul to teach, 
Still, forced by its intensity, 
Sweetheart, my love would voiceless be. 

* Sweetheart, though all the days and hours 

Sped by, with love in sharpest stress, 
To find some reach of human powers 

Its faintest impulse to express ; 
Till Time merged in Eternity, 
Sweetheart, my love would voiceless be.' 

Are they not beautiful ? " asked Leonie, as she 

" Very beautiful," responded Mr. Weems, with a 
faint impression that it might perhaps pay him to 
abandon the old masters, and to grasp the resound- 
ing lyre, with a resolution to thrum it during the 
remainder of his life. 

" ' Sweetheart ' is a name I always liked," said 
Leonie. " You called me your * rosebud,' in your 
last letter ; but somehow it did not please me so 
much as ' sweetheart ; ' it was not so natural." 

" Twenty-five years is old for a rosebud," said 
Mr. Weems, absently. 

" Yes," replied Leonie ; " and does it not seem 
odd, Julius, that we who have been apart so long 
should now be united forever, and that we should 
go down the current of time together until the 
end ? " 


While she was speaking, the elegant clock, from 
beneath its crystal covering, chimed out the hour 
of four, and the artist, consulting his watch, dis- 
covered that the correct time was precisely ten 
minutes past eleven. He arose from his seat, and 
fondly embracing Leonie, he kissed her, and bade 
her good night. She went to the window, and as, 
by the light of the street lamp, she saw him de- 
scending the steps in front of the house, she 
waved her hand toward him. Then turning, she 
proceeded to the hall, and up the stairs to bed, 
murmuring to herself, — 

" Burn them ! That would be insane ! " 





R. COWDRICK, although making no 
profession of a special fondness for a re- 
ligious life, was one of the pillars of St. 
Cadmus's Church. He had been elected to a place 
in the vestry ; he held two pews ; he contributed 
upon occasion to the Church fund ; and Rev. Mr. 
Tunicle, who was "an advanced Ritualist," found 
in Mr. Cowdrick an ardent supporter whenever he 
undertook to introduce innovations in his method 
of conducting the services. 

It did not seem important to Mr. Cowdrick that 
Mr. Tunicle should always try to produce from the 
records of the early Church his authority for any 
new and surprising practice that he wished to 
adopt. If the thing seemed to Mr. Cowdrick good 
in itself, if it pleased his eye, and gratified what he 
chose to consider the aesthetic demands of his 
nature, he deemed it unnecessary to ask any more 


questions. He would as soon have thought of 
inquiring, before he bought a new chair for his 
library, or a new set of plate for his table, whether 
his grandfather had established any precedent in 
the matter of the purchase of chairs and dishes, as 
to have sought in ecclesiological history warrant 
for the embellishment of the services at St. Cad- 
mus's. It was enough that the worshipers who 
had the most money, and who were able to pay for 
novelties, wanted them. 

Mr. Tunicle, or Father Tunicle, as his most en- 
thusiastic admirers called him, was a frequent visi- 
tor at the house of Mr. Cowdrick. Not only did 
he find there a great deal of sympathy with his 
plans, but he liked the society of Leonie, and he 
was exceedingly anxious to enlist her among the 
active workers in the church. 

He called upon Leonie one evening, shortly 
after her betrothal to Mr. Weems ; and as the 
artist happened to be out of town, Father Tunicle 
had an opportunity to enjoy some uninterrupted 
conversation with the young lady. 

" I noticed last Sunday, Father Tunicle," said 
Leonie, after some preliminary conversation, "that 
you did not use the velvet sermon-cover I worked 
for you. I hope you are pleased with it .'' " 

•' Oh yes, delighted with it. But then, you 
know, I couldn't use it last Sunday. The color 
for the Third Sunday after Epiphany is green, and 


the sermon cover you know, is violet I can use 
it on Septuagesima Sunday, of course. We can- 
not be too particular about these things in a world 
that is lying in wickedness." 

" Oh, excuse me," said Leonie. " I had gotten 
the idea, somehow, that violet was the morning 
color for last Sunday, and red the evening color." 

" You are thinking of Quinquagesima Sunday, 
Miss Cowdrick," said Father Tunicle, smiling 
gravely. " The color changes upon that day. 
You must study more carefully the little almanac 
I gave you. When the Church provides us with 
good books which may guide us to lives of earnest 
devotion, it is our duty to read them attentively." 

" I will promise to do better in the future," 
said Leonie, meekly. 

" I ought to tell you also," continued Father 
Tunicle, " that I could not use the Lavabo you 
worked for me, at all." 

" Indeed ! Why .? " 

" Why, instead of making it of plain linen, you 
made it of damask, and you embroidered it with 
silk ; whereas everything but French red marking 
cotton or white marking cotton is expressly pro- 
hibited by the rules. Nothing in the almanac is 
stated in plainer terms than this. St. Paul, you 
know, insisted that things should be done decently 
and in order, and we are bound to heed his injunc- 


"Ah, Father Tunicle, I am afraid I neglect St. 
Paul as much as I do my almanac. Will you be- 
lieve I really didn't know that he says anything 
about plain linen and French red marking cotton ? 
I plead guilty." 

" No, Miss Cowdrick, you misunderstand me. I 
did not mean to indicate that the apostle is the 
authority for these things. Unhappily he does 
not allude to them. Whether he ought to have 
done so, is another question. Our authority for 
them is more recent, but it is not to be despised 
upon that account." 

" Of course not." 

" I have great difficulty in impressing the im- 
portance of these things upon the minds of some 
of our people. Despite my repeated injunctions, 
Mrs. Battersby brought back from the laundry the 
altar-cloth filled with starch, and in the midst of 
my distress over the discovery of this sacrilege, I 
perceived that the sexton had omitted to pin the 
fringe to the super-frontal. If we are to be made 
perfect through suffering, I feel that I am not far 
from perfection, unless these distressing occurrences 
shall cease." 

"It is terrible," said Leonie, with tender sym- 
pathy in her voice. 

" By the way. Miss Cowdrick," said the pastor, 
" to turn to pleasanter themes. Cannot I enlist 
your more active interest in our church work .' 


Will you not come into the Sunday-school as a 
teacher ? " 

" I am not competent to teach, I fear." 

" We can give you a class of girls or a class of 
boys, as you prefer. The boys' class, which is 
named, * Little Lambs of the Flock,' is, I fear, 
somewhat too unruly for you. Miss Banner gave 
it up because the scholars would persist in pinch- 
ing each other and quarrelling during the lesson. 
They are so rough and boisterous that I think it 
will be better to get a male teacher to manage 
them. But you could take the girls' class, ' The 
Zealous Workers,' and perhaps persuade the pupils 
to surrender their present indifference to every- 
thing that is being done in either the Sunday- 
school or the church." 

" I will consider the matter, and let you have 
my answer as speedily as possible," replied Leonie. 

"Do, please. And I must speak to your father 
again about my assistant, Father Krum. He is 
not in sympathy with me, and it would be better 
for both of us if he could be removed." 

" It is so unfortunate," said Leonie. 

" I have told him repeatedly that his stole must 
always match the color of the frontal of the altar; 
but you perhaps noticed last Sunday that he came 
in with a black stole, and, of course, with a green 
frontal, all hope of a harmonious combination of 
colors was gone. It spoiled the entire service for 


" For me too," said Leonie. 

" Sometimes I think Krum is wilfully perverse 
and obstinate. Upon several recent occasions he 
has read the Epistle upon the Gospel side, and the 
Gospel upon the Epistle side, and when I remon- 
strated with him, after church, he was positively 
offensive. He said that if the people only listened 
to the Scripture and heeded it, he couldn't see 
why it made any difference whether he stood upon 
one side or the other, or balanced himself on top 
of the chancel rail. Scandalous, wasn't it ? " 

" Perfectly scandalous." 

" He seems to take pleasure in destroying the 
effect of the finest groupings that I arrange in 
the chancel with him and the acolytes ; and when 
I proposed to introduce an orchestra, led by Pro- 
fessor Batterini, whom I should dress in a surplice, 
Krum had the insolence to say that he did not be- 
lieve that there was any use of trying to preach the 
Gospel to the poor with a brass band. The man 
seems to be lost to all sense of reverence." 

" Entirely lost," said Leonie. 

" And as for praying to the east, that he appears 
determined not to do. Of course, with the incor- 
rect orientation of the church, we have only a 
* supposititious east,' arid Krum insists that if I have 
a right to suppose the north-northwest, I think it 
is, to be the east, he is equally entitled to suppose 
the southwest or due south to be east, and so he 


does as he pleases. When he said, the other day, 
that in his opinion more depended upon the frame 
of mind in which the prayers were said, than upon 
the particular point of the compass towards which 
the supplications were presented, I did not answer 
him. Such a man is almost beyond the reach 
of argument." 

Mr. Cowdrick came in while Father Tunicle was 
speaking ; and when the good pastor had rehearsed 
his grievances to the banker, Mr. Cowdrick said, — 

" Father Krum's conduct is subversive of good 
order and of authority ; and if he is allowed to con- 
tinue he will demoralize the entire congregation. 
He ought to remember what the Bible says about 
submitting reverently to one's pastors and spiritual 
masters. You are his pastor and spiritual master. 
Isaiah, isn't it, who says that .-* " 

" The quotation, though somewhat inexact," re- 
plied Father Tunicle, " is from the Catechism." 

"Well, anyhow, he ought to do as you want him 
to do. That is what we pay him for. And if he 
refuses to do it, he ought to be dismissed." 

"That," said Father Tunicle, "will be difficult 
to do while he has at least half of the vestrymen 
with him. I am sorry to say that his obstinacy is 
countenanced and approved by a number of the 
lay officers of the church." 

" Then we must use force ! " exclaimed Mr. Cow- 
drick. " If we men who put down our money to 


keep the church in operation cannot be allowed to 
do as we please, we had better stop contributing. 
The people who pay for spreading the glad tidings 
of the Gospel ought to be allowed to spread thera 
in their own way." 

" Matters," said Father Tunicle, " are fast ap- 
proaching a point where something will have to be 
done. Three times I have instructed Krum to ex- 
tend only three of his fingers when he pronounces 
absolution, but he continues to hold out his entire 
hand, with all his fingers wide open. The last time 
he did it I noticed that Mrs. Lindsay, who is one 
of our party, got up and left the church in a rage." 

" I saw her go out," said Leonie. " That was 
the first Sunday upon which she wore her purple 
velvet bonnet. Everybody was looking at her." 

" If he does it again," said Mr. Cowdrick, " I am 
in favor of shutting the church doors against hira 
and his friends. Peremptory action orf some kind 
becomes a necessity in cases like this." 

After some further conversation relative to ec- 
clesiastical and secular matters, Father Tunicle 
took his leave, and went home, probing the deep 
recesses of his mind, as he walked along, to find 
some plan by which he might successfully over- 
come the resistance offered by the perverse Father 
Krum to the evangelization of a fallen race. 

The next Sunday morning was bright and beauti- 
ful. The air was cold, but the sun shone from a 


clear sky to tempt from their homes the worship- 
ers who, however willing to brave, on week-days, 
terrific storms sent to keep them from shopping 
excursions and parties, have not nerve enough 
upon Sundays to face a cloud no larger than a 
man's hand. 

Those persons who, upon devotional errands in- 
tent, walked along the footway near St. Cadmus's 
church at the hour of morning prayer, perceived 
that something of an unusual and exciting nature 
was in progress in and about that purely Gothic 
edifice. The many whose curiosity succeeded in 
overcoming their desire to be punctual in their 
attendance at the sanctuary, paused to observe 
the proceedings. 

A crisis had been reached in the quarrel be- 
tween Father Tunicle and Father Krum, As the 
latter, in response to still another request that he 
would extend but three fingers in his pronunciation 
of the absolution, had positively, and indeed with 
vehemence, refused to extend less than four, and 
had gone so far as to indicate that, under serious 
provocation, he might even thrust out eight fingers 
and two thumbs, Father Tunicle's party had re- 
solved that the time had come for them to act. 

" It is a terrible thing to do," said Father Tu- 
nicle ; " but the blood of the martyrs is the seed 
of the Church ; and we must stand up boldly for 
truth and right, though we die for it." 


And so, upon that lovely Sunday morning, when 
dumb Nature herself seemed to be trying to ex- 
press, with the glory of her sunshine, and with the 
pure beauty of her azure sky, her sense of the 
goodness of her Creator, Father Tunicle and six 
of his vestrymen, reinforced by a few earnest sym- 
pathizers, who were subsequently admitted through 
a side door by a faithful sexton, took possession 
of the church. 

When Father Krum arrived, the faithful sexton, 
keeping watch and ward at the aforesaid door, 
refused to let him in ; and when the indignant 
clergyman demanded a reason for his exclusion, 
the functionary informed him that his reckless con- 
duct in using four fingers and a thumb, instead of 
the inferior number warranted by a strict regard 
for the usages of the primitive Church, had per- 
suaded Father Tunicle and his partisans that, as a 
shepherd of the sheep, he was a lamentable and 
dismal, not to say dangerous, failure. 

Then Father Krum, in a frame of mind that 
contained no suggestion of Christian resignation, 
walked rapidly around to the front of the church, 
where he found a group of persons, members of 
the congregation, who were standing before a 
close-barred door, behind which, in the vestibule, 
stood Father Tunicle and his adherents. While 
Father Krum, in the mildest tones that he could 
command, and with a proper desire not to produce 


any excitement, explained the situation to the 
crowd, the six vestrymen who inclined to favor his 
views, in opposition to those of Father Tunicle, 
came up, one after the other. 

They were taken completely by surprise, and felt 
they were at a disadvantage. But after some pre- 
liminary discussion, they called Mr. Krum aside, 
and began to consider with him what should be 
done. Mr. Krum counselled a retreat. His voice 
was for peace. He urged that a resort to violence 
at any time, but especially at such a time, would 
be shocking. But the vestrymen did not agree 
with him. Mr. Yetts declared that they had a 
right to enter the church, and that for officers of 
the church with authority co-equal with theirs to 
deny that right, was simply monstrous, and not to 
be endured. Mr. Palfrey, Mr. Green, and the other 
vestrymen, expressed their full agreement with this 

•'But let us try peaceful means, at any rate," 
said Mr. Krum. " I will knock at the door." 

He advanced and knocked. " Who is it .-• " said 
a voice from within. 

" It is Mr. Krum, six of the vestrymen, and a large 
portion of the congregation. We wish to enter." 

" Can't do it," replied the voice, which was that 
of the sexton, who had advanced to the front, and 
had been thrown out upon the picket line in the 


" Where is Father Tunicle ? " asked Mr. Krum. 

" He has just begun the service, and has gotten 
as far as 'dearly beloved brethren.' My orders are 
that you can't get in until he says the apostolic 
benediction ! " 

" Ask one of the vestrymen to come to the win- 
dow for a moment, please," said Mr. Krum. 

Presently one of the front windows was raised to 
the height of two or three inches, and Mr. Cow- 
dric.k peered through the wire netting that pro- 
tected it. 

" What do you want .-* " asked Mr. Cowdrick. 

"We wish to know," said Mr. Yetts, "why we 
are excluded from this church, and by whose 
authority .-' " 

" You are excluded," said Mr. Cowdrick, " be- 
cause we who pay the expenses are determined to 
run the church in our own way. The door is shut 
by our authority ; by mine ! " 

" Do you mean to say," asked Mr. Krum, with 
much mildness, "that you intend to try to make 
this exclusion permanent .<* " 

" Of course. We have possession and we in- 
tend to keep it. Hurry up if you have anything to 
say ; I want to go in and help swell the responses." 

" See here, Cowdrick," said Mr. Yetts, fiercely, 
" if you don't open that door, we will break it down. 
We're not going to stand any more of this non- 


" You'd better not try it," replied Mr. Cowdrick. 
" I shall summon the police to protect us if you 

In response to this, Mr. Yetts advanced to the 
door and kicked it three or four times, viciously. 
The crowd, which had swollen until it covered the 
pavement and filled the street, laughed at this de- 
monstration. Mr. Cowdrick, behind the window 
netting, laughed also. Mr. Yetts, with crimson 
face, retired in tolerably good order to consult with 
his friends. Father Krum advised him to give it up. 

" Give it up ! " exclaimed Mr. Yetts. " I'll show 
you how I'll give it up ! " 

Then he and Mr. Green went around the cor- 
ner for a little space, and returned presently with 
a somewhat ponderous wooden beam. The four 
other vestrymen manned it, and aimed it at the 
door. Bang ! went the end against the portal, 
which bravely withstood the shock. The crowd 
cheered, and a dozen boys, who regarded the per- 
formance with delighted interest, crowded up be- 
hind the assaulting column, and betrayed a desire 
to give additional impetus to Mr. Yetts' battering 

The Krum section of the vestry made another 
charge, striking the door with terrible force, but 
still failing to effect a breach. At this moment 
one of Father Tunicle's acolytes emerged from the 
side-door and attempted- to glide down the street 


in search of a policeman. He was captured by 
one of the besieging force, and held as a prisoner. 
He brought the news that Father Tunicle had 
stopped short in the service when the first blow 
was struck against the door, and that the entire 
garrison was now rallied in the vestibule, where 
they were fortifying the portal with the baptismal 
font, the episcopal chair, some Sunday-school 
benches, and a lectern. 

Mr. Krum remonstrated with Mr. Yetts, and en- 
treated .him not to proceed any further. He urged 
that it was a dreadful thing for Christian men to 
create such a disturbance upon the Sabbath-day. 

" I don't know about that ! " replied Mr. Yetts, 
who was now warm with wrath and with excite- 
ment. " When Peter did wrong didn't Paul ' with- 
stand him to the face' .•• " 

" Yes ; but, my dear Mr. Yetts, think of it ! 
St. Paul did not try to batter down the church door 
on a Sunday morning with a log of wood ! You 
are going too far ! " 

•' Times have changed since then," said Mr. 
Yetts. " Paul probably never encountered pre- 
cisely such an emergency. Once more ! " ex- 
claimed Mr. Yetts to the assailants. " Give it to 
'em hard this time ! " 

Seizing the beam, the vestrymen and their 
friends advanced once more to the attack. Three 
times was the door smitten without effect, but 

A Riotous Service. Page 147. 


when the fourth blow was struck it gave way, and 
was flung wide open, revealing Father Tunicle and 
his friends, standing amid amass of overturned and 
wrecked furniture, pale with rage and dismay, and 
ready to defend with force the citadel which thus 
was exposed to the enemy. 

The crowd sent up a shout of satisfaction, and the 
intrepid Yetts, with his five vestrymen, regarded 
their triumph with exultation 

What they would have done next, if they had 
been permitted to press forward through the breach, 
can only be imagined. For a moment it looked as 
if beneath that spire which idly pointed these men 
toward a better country, whence rage and hatred 
and all evil passions are shut out, and beneath the 
bell, whose function was to send vibrating through 
the tremulous air its summons to the temple of 
the Prince of Peace, there might be a hand-to-hand 
encounter, in which priest and people should as- 
sail each other with furious violence. 

But, most happily, at this critical moment, a 
squad of policemen came upon the scene, and 
entering the doorway, separated the combatants 
and prevented any further demonstration. 

" Never mind ! " exclaimed Mr. Yetts, shaking 
his fist at the Father Tunicle faction. " We will 
go to law about it. We shall see who has a right 
to use this church ! " 

" As you please ! " replied Mr. Sloper, one of the 


vestrymen who adhered to Father Tunicle. " We 
will fight you to the last gasp ! " 

And then both parties dispersed, leaving the 
church in charge of the policemen, who closed the 
door, and took the key to the nearest magistrate. 

Taken altogether, the day's proceedings, re- 
garded as the performance of Christian gentlemen, 
citizens of a Christian country, upon the day desig- 
nated by Christianity as a day of peace and rest — 
as a day of devotion to celestial and holy things, 
could hardly be regarded as encouraging to those 
hopeful persons who cherish the theory that the 
world is to be made better by illustrations of the 
excellence of the advantages of pure religion. 





EFORE another Sunday came, the com- 
munity was shocked and startled by the an- 
nouncement that Mr. Cowdrick, the banker, 
had suddenly and mysteriously disappeared. What 
had become of him nobody seemed to know. Even 
Mrs. Cowdrick apparently did not know. The 
friends who promptly called upon her, partly for the 
purpose of offering her their sympathy and partly 
with an intent to gratify their curiosity, ascer- 
tained, during the intervals of her hysterical 
spasms, that she cherished a wild and rather inco- 
herent theory that Mr. Cowdrick had been brutally 
assassinated by some person and for some cause 
unknown. And this theory obtained some accept- 
ance for a time among amiable people, who were 
disposed to take the most charitable view of the 
situation. But the number of these speedily di- 
minished when the newspapers, a day or two later, 


revealed the result of an official examination of the 
affairs of Mr. Cowdrick's bank. The public then 
learned that that financial institution was rotten 
through and through ; that Mr. Cowdrick and his 
partners in crime had not only used, for purposes 
of private speculation, the money of the depositors, 
but that they had stolen everything of value that 
had been committed to their care, and had left the 
bank an absolute, hopeless wreck, and reduced the 
innocent and unsuspicious stockholders to beggary. 

The public excitement, of course, was great. 
Mrs. Cowdrick's friends neglected her. The rich 
and influential De Flukes actually insulted her by 
sending to recall an invitation to their reception 
that had been sent to her. As if Mrs. Cowdrick 
could have attended the reception at any rate ! 
This was the cruellest thing of all, to Mrs. Cow- 
drick. She broke down completely and went to 
bed, where Leonie waited upon her to supply her 
with almost alarming quantities of camphor and 

As no traces of the fugitive could be found ; as 
no one could testify to having seen him leave the 
city ; and as the detective force, after following out 
without success any number of what they considered 
excellent clues, appeared to have relapsed into a 
normal condition of imbecility and indifference, the 
conclusion reached by many persons was, that 
Cowdrick had destroyed himself ; and the energetic 


and enterprising coroner, McSorley, who had just 
.been elected upon the Democratic ticket, went to 
work to drag all the rivers and creeks and ponds in 
the neighborhood. 

Colonel Hoker, the editor of the Crab, the leading 
daily paper, advocated a dozen different theories 
in turn, and his indomitable reporters not only 
secured early and accurate reports of the condi- 
tion of the bank, but they obtained expressions of 
opinion from at least thirty eminent citizens who 
really knew no more about the matter than other 
people, and they watched Cowdrick's house so 
closely, and were so successful in establishing con- 
fidential relations with the chambermaid, that they 
were able to tell how often the doctor called to see 
Mrs. Cowdrick, what quantity of reinvigorating 
drugs she consumed, how her medicine agreed 
with her, and what she had every day for dinner. 

A country wherein a tyrant's power is used to 
shackle the press, and to rob it of freedom of utter- 
ance, does not know how much it misses. 

The uncertainty in which the fate of Mr. Cow- 
drick was involved, made it exceedingly difficult 
for Colonel Hoker to discuss the bank sensation in 
his editorial columns. If he could have felt sure 
that the unhappy fugitive had really slain himself, 
the course of the Colonel would have been clear ; 
for then he could with safety have directed public 
attention to the peculiar atrocity of the transactions 


at the bank ; he could have held the miserable of- 
fender up before the public eye to point to him 
as an awful example to others, and especially to the 
young, and he could have preached many eloquent 
sermons upon the text, "Be sure your sins will 
find you out ! " 

But while a chance remained that Cowdrick was 
still alive and might return, the Colonel knew that 
it was the duty of persons upon whom it devolved 
to form public opinion through the instrumentality 
of the press, to be careful. He had learned from 
extended observation that an absent offender who 
has been roughly used as a warning against pur- 
suance of the paths of vice, sometimes comes back, 
and, after gaining possession of power and riches, 
manifests a disposition to make things very uncom- 
fortable for the eminent journalists who have used 
him as a basis for their denunciations of sin. And 
so the Colonel discussed the matter in the Crab 
only in a general way ; lamenting the loss to the 
stockholders ; expressing regret that " one of our 
most eminent citizens should be, for a time at 
least, in some respects under a cloud," and urging 
that perhaps the disaster might fairly be attributed 
to the spirit of wild speculation which seemed at 
times to animate entire communities, rather than 
to a deliberate purpose to inflict injury upon con- 
fiding and innocent persons. 

The dexterity displayed by Colonel Hoker, in 

THE CRAB. 153 

keeping the Crab in such a nice position that 
while it apparently conceded much to public senti- 
ment and the requirements of morality, it yet left a 
very wide margin for the contingency of Cowdrick's 
vindication and restoration to prosperity, was really 

But the nicest ingenuity sometimes will not avail 
against accident, or rather against that Fate which 
ordains catastrophe with ironical contempt for hu- 
man foresight. 

The Colonel was compelled to leave town for a 
few days, and in order to make the Crab entirely 
safe, he penned two editorial articles, one to be 
used in the event of the discovery of Cowdrick's 
dead body during his absence, the other to be 
inserted if Cowdrick should return alive to face his 
accusers and his fate. 

The former article ran in this wise : — 

" The Way of the Transgressor. 
" It has not often been our lot to present to our 
readers more striking proof than that which is 
found in our columns to-day of the fact that Satan 
makes hard bargains. It is now positively ascer- 
tained that Cowdrick the swindler, forger and thief, 
driven by desperation at the exposure of his awful 
crimes, and, let us hope, for the sake of human na- 
ture, by the stings of a conscience which could not 
hearken with indifference to the cries of the widows 


and orphans reduced at one fell blow to beggary, 
took his own life, and so ended a career of crime 
which honest men shrink from contemplating. It 
is, perhaps, for the best, however much we may 
regret that this wretched felon, burdened with guilt 
and shame, should have robbed the law of its right 
to punish, and should have gone into eternity un- 
shriven, with the guilt of self-destruction added to 
the mountain of sins for which already he was re- 
quired to give account. We shrink from discus- 
sion of the dreadful details of this shocking and 
sickening tragedy ; but it will not have been en- 
acted in vain if it shall seem to warn those who are 
tempted, as this man was, to surrender honesty at 
the demand of greed, and to permit the maddening 
thirst for gain to persuade them to trample in the 
dust their obligations to society, to their families, 
and to those who had given them their trust." 

The second article pursued rather a different line 
of thought. It was to the following effect : — 

" A Demand for Fair Play. 
" We take a great deal of pleasure in announcing 
that Henry P. Cowdrick, Esq., the well-known 
banker, whose name has been before the public for 
some days past in connection with some unpleas- 
ant, but not yet positively authentic, rumors, has 
returned to the city in the enjoyment of excellent 
health. It is understood that an immediate further 


examination into the affairs of the bank will be 
made with the assistance of Mr. Cowdrick, and we 
merely express the general wish when we say that 
we hope to have some of the transactions that have 
excited severest comment explained in such a man- 
ner as to vindicate Mr. Cowdrick of every sus- 
picion of wilful wrong-doing. Meantime, while this 
inquiry is pending, and while Mr. Cowdrick is 
preparing his statement of the case, it is only 
just to him to ask that there shall be a suspension 
of public opinion. His former high standing, his 
services to this community, the obscurity in which 
the recent operations of the bank are shrouded, and 
the most ordinary requirements of fair play, all com- 
bine to make it desirable that public opinion shall 
not pronounce a final verdict before the case is made 
up. We need not say how earnestly we trust that 
Mr. Cowdrick will emerge from his troubles with 
his honor unstained, and his reputation as a faithful 
guardian of the trusts confided to him, untarnished." 
As a precautionary measure, the preparation of 
these articles appeared to be in a high sense ju- 
dicious ; and the Colonel naturally felt that the Crab 
might be depended on to keep nicely upon the 
right track until he should come home. But, alas ! 
upon the next day but one after his departure, the 
foreman of the Crab composing-room, either mis- 
taking his instructions, or being too much in haste 
in arranging his material, placed both articles to- 


gather in the form, and the Crab came out in the 
morning to provoke the mirth of the town, to ex- 
cite the contempt of its enemies, and to drive the 
unhappy associate editors of the paper to madness 
and despair. The manner in which the rival jour- 
nals commented upon the occurrence was both 
brutal and infamous ; and when the subject became 
a little stale, the editors of the rival journals put 
the Crab articles carefully away in scrap books, so 
as to make sure of having them ready for irritating 
and badgering Colonel Hoker upon every favora- 
ble opportunity during all the years to come. 

The Colonel himself, upon discerning the catas- 
trophe in a copy of the paper which he picked up 
at his hotel, expressed his feelings freely and 
vehemently by telegraph, and then he started home 
upon a fast express train for the purpose of ex- 
plaining his views more fully and precisely. 

The Crab itself alluded to the subject only so far 
as to suggest that the stupidity of an associate 
editor was accountable for the performance, and to 
hint that there was some reason for suspecting 
that bribery had been employed by the owners of 
rival papers, in the vain hope to bring the Crab, the 
only really infallible journal published, into con- 

The efforts of McSorley, the coroner, to demon- 
strate the correctness of his theory of suicide were 
indefatigable. The body not having been discov- 


ered in any of the streams, McSorley began to 
search for it upon the land. The pursuit, how- 
ever, was not profitable, for no traces of Mr. Cow- 
drick could be found. An ordinary coroner would 
have abandoned the hunt in despair ; but Mc- 
Sorley was no common man. He brought to the 
performance of the functions of his office an en- 
thusiasm which never failed to kindle at the prom- 
ise of a fee ; and as, in this case, he was thoroughly 
convinced that Cowdrick ought to have committed 
suicide, he felt that for Cowdrick to have evaded 
his duty in the matter would have been to perpe- 
trate a wanton outrage upon Coroner McSorley. 

The following extract from the local reports in 
the Crab will explain the character of the coroner's 
ultimate effort : — 

" Yesterday a number of large bones were dis- 
covered beneath an old stable on Twelfth Street, 
by some laborers. It was believed by most of the 
spectators that they were the bones of a horse. 
But Coroner McSorley, who was sent for, declared 
at once his belief that they were portions of the 
skeleton of one of our prominent citizens, a banker, 
who has been missing for several days. This 
view was contested by several of the persons pres- 
ent upon the ground that the remains were abso- 
lutely fleshless, and manifestly very old. But the 
coroner, to demonstrate the accuracy of his view, 
proceeded to arrange the bones upon the pave- 


ment in the form of a man. He succeeded in the 
attempt to some extent, and was about to summon 
his jury of inquest, when Dr. Wattles came up. 
The doctor examined the skeleton, and then the 
following conversation ensued between him and 
Coroner McSorley : — 

" ' You don't imagine that to be the skeleton of 
a human being, do you, Mr. McSorley .-*' 

" Certainly it is ! Don't you see the shape of it .'' ' 

" ' But, my dear sir, what you have arranged as 
the spine, runs clear up through what you suppose 
to be the skull, and projects two or three inches 
beyond the top of the head.' 

" ' Of course ; and that is very likely the cause of 
all the trouble. The man's spine worked up into 
his head and disordered his mind. An aunt of 
mine, in Wisconsin, went mad from that very 

" ' But how do you account for the fact that there 
are three elbows in the left arm and none at all in 
the right. 

'"Dr. Wattles, I am not obliged to account for 
eccentricities of formation in different individuals. 
I am satisfied with them as nature made them ; 
and that is enough. It 's none of my business if 
Cowdrick had eleven elbows in one arm, and thirty- 
four in the other.' 

" * I will not argue the point, sir ; but you cer- 
tainly have no authority for locating two ribs in 


the neck, and for placing a row of teeth upon the 
upper side of the right foot. That foot, Mr. Mc- 
Sorley, is nothing but a fragment of a lower jaw- 
bone, depend upon it.' 

" ' How do you know that the deceased had no 
teeth there .'' You doctors always want to insist 
that every man is constructed on the same plan. I 
used to know a man in Canada who had four molar 
teeth in his ankle ; and two of them were plugged. 
This appears to be a similar case.' 

" ' But you never knew a man who had a thigh- 
bone where his shoulder-blade ought to be, like 
this one, did you .-' You never saw a man with a 
knee-cap in the small of his back, either, did you ? " 

" ' Maybe I did, and maybe I didn't. I have no 
time to discuss the subject now. The inquest that 
I am about to hold will bring out the facts. Mr. 
O'Flynn, swear in the jury ! ' " 

The evidence that was given by the witnesses 
was of the most varied and entertaining charac- 
ter; and though much of it was vague and much 
was irrelevant, the jury appeared to have no iffi- 
culty in reaching a conclusion, for, after a few min- 
utes' deliberation, they brought in a verdict that 
" the deceased, Henry P. Cowdrick, came to his 
death from cause or causes unknown ; " and then 
they collected their fees and dispersed, with a grate- 
ful consciousness that they had fully discharged 
their duty to society. 


But, of course, perfectly disinterested persons, 
persons who were not in the way of earning jury 
fees, were disposed to regard with increduhty the 
conclusions reached by the coroner and his friends, 
and still it was for the community a vexed ques- 
tion — What had become of Mr. Cowdrick ? 

The coroner's theory, however, was not entirely 
forgotten, because Dr. Wattles sent to one of the 
daily papers a communication, in which he ex- 
pressed his opinion of the bones over which the 
inquest was held. This provoked from " An Em- 
inent Scientist," who had not seen the bones, a 
suggestion of the possibility that they may have 
belonged to some mysterious creature who was 
the missing link between man and the lower 
orders of mammalia. 

To this there came a hot response from Father 
Tunicle and several other clergymen, who pro- 
ceeded to show the monstrous folly and wickedness 
of such a supposition, and who demonstrated that 
Science and Infidelity, not to sa)^ sheer Paganism, 
were pretty nearly one and the same thing. 

The clerical utterances so excited at least half- 
a-dozen other Eminent Scientists that the latter 
undertook to demonstrate, through the columns of 
the daily papers, that the book of Genesis was writ- 
ten by Jeremiah ; that life first visited this planet 
in the shape of star-dust, which, after developing 
into jelly-fish, gradually grew to the ape form, and 

" You NEVER Saw a Man with a Knee-cap in the Small of 
HIS Back." Page 159. 


ultimately became man. They showed how all re- 
ligion is priestcraft and superstition ; they traced 
all the creeds backward to myths built upon the 
operations of Nature ; they could hardly refrain 
from mirth at the notion of a Great First Cause ; 
and they positively refused to join with the multi- 
tude, for whom, however, they expressed deep com- 
passion, in believing anything that they could not 
see, or feel, or analyze. 

It seemed a large controversy to grow out of 
Coroner McSorley's arrangement of the unearthed 
bones ; but the controversialists manifestly regard- 
ed it as of the very highest importance ; although, 
when it was ended, each believed precisely what he 
had believed before. 

At St. Cadmus's, the Cowdrick tragedy had had, 
upon the whole, rather a good efifect. The event 
was mournful, of course, but it produced some de- 
sirable results. The Tunicle party felt that they 
had lost one of their most ardent supporters, and a 
contributor upon whose wealth they had depended 
greatly for the success of their plans. Thus they 
were able more easily to perceive the excellence of 
a spirit of concession, and at once they began to 
approach the other side with offers of compromise. 

Happily, at this juncture, Father Krum received 
a " call " to a church in another diocese, and he 
accepted it promptly, sending in his resignation of 
his position as the assistant minister at St. Cad- 


mus's. Father Tunicle, then, of his own motion, 
offered to abandon, as not absolutely essential to 
salvation, the use of black book-markers upon 
Good Friday ; whereupon Mr. Yetts and his adher- 
ents in the vestry declared themselves satisfied, 
and once more resumed their accustomed places in 
the sanctuary on Sunday. 

Upon the second Sunday after the disappearance 
of Mr. Cowdrick, Father Tunicle, who held stoutly 
to the theory that his late vestryman had been 
murdered, resolved to refer indirectly in his re- 
marks from the pulpit to the bereavement; and 
upon his invitation, Mrs. Cowdrick and Leonie at- 
tended the church, heavily veiled, to obtain what 
consolation might be possible from the services. 

Father Tunicle, being somewhat pressed for 
time during the preceding week, had procured 
from a dealer in such commodities, at the price of 
three dollars, an original sermon addressed to per- 
sons in affliction, and this he brought with him 
into the pulpit, wrapped in Leonie's worked velvet 
sermon-cover. The fact that the sermon was nicely 
lithographed, so that it closely resembled manu- 
script, made it quite impossible for any one to 
suspect that it was not the product of Father Tu- 
nicle's own intellectual effort and of his earnest 
sympathy. The discourse was divided into four 
parts ; three heads, and an affecting application ; 
which, at three dollars for the whole, of course 


amounted to just seventy-five cents a part — not 
too much, surely, for so wholesome and comforting 
a sermon. 

Father Tunicle preached it with much elo- 
quence ; but Mrs. Cowdrick, despite an occasional 
sob beneath her veil, managed to restrain her feel- 
ings until Father Tunicle had gotten through with 
one dollar and a half's worth of the sermon, and 
had begun upon the third head. Then Mrs. Cow- 
drick could stand it no longer. One passionate 
outburst of grief followed another, until, when the 
attention of the entire congregation was directed to 
Mrs. Cowdrick, the sexton came in, and led her in 
a fainting condition down the aisle to the door, 
where she was placed in the carriage with Leonie, 
with nothing to solace her but the reflection that 
everybody in the church, including the odious De 
Flukes, 7mist have noticed her seal-skin sacque and 
her lovely diamond earrings. 





NE morning, Mr. Julius Weems sat in his 
studio, dressed in velvet working jacket 
and slouching hat. With palette on 
thumb, brush in hand, and pipe in mouth, Mr. 
Weems was endeavoring to give a sufficiently aged 
appearance to a " Saul and Witch of Endor," by 
Salvator Rosa. 

" Hang it," said Mr. Weems to himself, as he 
placed a dab of burnt umber on the withered cheek 
of the hag, " everything seems to go wrong ! It was 
bad enough to have old Cowdrick dupe me in the 
way he did ; but right on top of that, to hear from 
Crook and Gudgem that the Rubens business is 
being overdone, and that they have had eight St. 
Ethelbertas offered to them during the week, is a 
little too much. If the entire profession of artists 
is going to turn to painting old masters, I will have 
to come down to modern art and poor prices. It's 

MR. WEEMS. 165 

the worst luck ! There is no chance at all for a man 
to earn an honest living ! " 

Mr. Weems's soliloquy was interrupted by a 
light knocking upon his door. Hastily throwing a 
cloth over the picture upon his easel, and turning 
two Titians and a Raphael with their faces to the 
wall, Mr. Weems opened the door and admitted 
the visitor. 

" Good morning ! " said the intruder. " Don't 
know me, I suppose ? " 

"No." responded Mr. Weems. 
." My name is Gunn ; Benjamin P. Gunn." 

" I have heard of you. You are interested in life 
assurance, I believe ? A canvasser, or something .-• " 

" Yes, I was ; but I have given that up now. 
The business was overdone. I grew tired of it I " 

" You don't know anything, then, about Mr. 
Cowdrick's case ? I mean whether he had much on 
his life or not ? " 

" Oh ! well, I have heard that he was insured for 
fifty thousand or so ; I don't remember the exact 
amount. But it makes no difference." 

" Will the widow be likely to get it if he is 
dead .? " 

" In my opinion she will have a mighty slim 
chance of collecting anything, even if she can prove 
that he is actually deceased. From what I know 
of the President of the Widows' and Orphans' Mu- 
tual Life Insurance Company, I believe he will 


fight the claim through all the courts. That is his 
rule. Nearly all the companies do it." 

" What ! even if it is a clear case for the policy- 
holder .? " 

" Of course ! That is the regular thing. They'll 
worry a widow so that she will be glad to com- 
promise on half the claim, and by the time she has 
paid her lawyers most of that is gone." 

" That seems hard ! " 

"Yes; that is one of the reasons why I quit. 
Take the case of Lemuel A. Gerlach, for example. 
You remember it ? " 


" Well, sir, I did my best to persuade that man 
to insure. He didn't want to ; but I harried him 
into it. I waited on him at his office ; I disturbed 
him at his meals ; I lay in wait for him when he 
came home from the club ; I followed him to the 
sea-shore in summer ; when he went yachting I 
pursued him with a steam-tug ; when he was sick 
I got the apothecary to enclose our circulars with 
his medicine ; I sat next to him in church for four 
consecutive Sundays, and slipped mortality tables 
into his prayer-book ; I rode with him in the same 
carriage when he went to funerals, and lectured 
him all the way out to the cemetery upon the un- 
certainty of human life. Finally, he succumbed. 
I knew he would. It was only a question of time. 
I took him down to the ofRce ; the company's sur- 

TOM BENNET's way. 167 

geon examined him, and said he was the healthiest 
man he ever saw — not a flaw in him anywhere. 
So he paid his premium and got his policy. Two 
months later he died. When Mrs. Gerlach called 
to get her money, the President threatened to have 
her put out of the office because she denied that 
Gerlach's liver was torpid when he took out his 

" Did they pay, finally } " 

" Pay ! not a dollar ! The widow sued to recover, 
and the company put the surgeon and eight 
miscellaneous doctors on the stand to prove that 
Gerlach for years had been a complete physical 
wreck, with more diseases than most people ever 
heard of ; and they undertook to show that Gerlach 
had devoted the latter part of his life to organizing 
a scheme for foisting himself upon the company for 
the purpose of swindling it. That was five years 
ago. The case is pending in the courts yet, and 
the widow has already spent twenty per cent, more 
than the face of the policy." . 

"It was not a very profitable speculation, cer- 

" No, sir ; it wasn't. I'll tell you what, Mr. 
Weems, if a man wants to realize on his departed 
relatives, that is not the way to do it. Anything 
is better than life insurance ; even Tom Bennet's 

" How was that ? " 


" Why, Tom Bennet, you know, is a friend of 
mine, who lives out in Arkansas. And one day, 
some years ago, a little cemetery in the town in 
which he lived was sold out by the sheriff. Tommy 
was looking about for a site on which to build a 
house for himself, and, as this one happened to suit 
him, he bid on it, and got it at a very low figure. 
When he began to dig the cellar, Tom found that 
the folks who were interred in the place had been 
petrified, to a man. Every occupant turned to 
solid stone ! So Tom, you know, being a practical 
kind of man, made up his mind to quarry out the 
departed, and to utilize them for building material." 

" Rather unkind, wasn't it .■'" 

"Tom didn't appear to think so. And as the 
building made progress, he rubbed down Mr. Flah- 
erty for a door-sill, and had Judge Paterson chipped 
off with a chisel into the handsomest hitching-post 
that you ever saw." 

" Horrible ! " 

"Yes. Some of the McTurk family were put 
into the bow-window, between the sashes, and the 
whole of the families of Major Magill and Mr. 
Dougherty were worked into the foundation. And 
when the roof was going on, Tom Bennet took 
General Hidenhooper, and bored a flue through 
the crown of his head dovvnward, so as to use him 
for a chimney-top. The edifice, when completed, 
presented a rather striking appearance." 

MR. COWDRICk's fate. 1 69 

" What did the surviving relatives have to say .'' " 

" They were indignant, of course ; but as the 
courts decided that the petrifactions, without 
doubt, were part of the real estate, and were in- 
cluded in the title-deeds, they could do nothing but 
remonstrate, and Tom paid no attention to that." 

"Then it is your professional opinion," said Mr. 
Weems, returning to the subject uppermost in his 
mind, "that the Insurance Company will not pay, 
even if Mr. Cowdrick be found to be dead ! " 

Mr. Gunn smiled in a peculiar manner, and then, 
after a moment's hesitation, he said : " Really, you 
know, Mr. Weems, there is no use of discussing 
that contingency. Cowdrick is not dead." 

" How do you know ? " 

" Why, that is the very thing I called to see you 
about. I am on the detective force now. Reg- 
ularly employed by the police authorities. I know 
exactly where Cowdrick is, and I have had him 
under surveillance from the very first day that he 
left home." 

" Why haven't you arrested him, then .'' " 

Mr. Gunn laughed, " Oh, it was not worth 
while. I knew I could get him whenever I wanted 
him. It never pays to be in a hurry with such 

" A heavy reward has been offered for him, I 
believe," said Mr. Weems. 

*' That's just it," replied Mr. Gunn. 


" I don't understand you." 

" Why, the authorities express their anxiety to 
catch him, by offering to pay five hundred dollars 
to accomplish the feat. Now, the question is, will 
Cowdrick's friends express their wish that he shall 
not be caught, by going a little higher, say up to 
one thousand dollars .■' " 

" But I cannot imagine why you should come to 
me with such a proposition. Why don't you go to 
Mrs. Cowdrick ? " 

" I'd rather deal with a man ; a man understands 
business so much better. And as you are inter- 
ested in Cowdrick's family, going, as it were, to be 
near and dear to him, it struck me that maybe you 
might give him a chance to go off quietly upon a 
trip to Europe, or somewhere, and save him from a 
term of years in jail. How does it strike you ? " 

"Very unfavorably. In the first place, I have 
not enough money for your purpose ; and, in the 
second place, if I did have it, I should decline to 
expend it for the benefit of Mr. Cowdrick." 

" Then you refuse to negotiate .-" " 

" Yes, positively." 

"Very well," said Mr. Detective Gunn, rising, 
"I merely wished to ascertain what your views 
were. Pardon me for interrupting you. No of- 
fence, I hope .-* Good morning." And Mr. Gunn 
withdrew, while Weems closed and bolted the door. 

The • artist had hardly seated himself, and re- 


sumed the work of depicting the Witch of Endor, 
when another visitor knocked at the door. Mr. 
Weems arose, drew the bolt, and opened the door 
wide enough to permit him to look out. 

" May I come in .-* " asked Leonie Cowdrick, with 
an effort at cheeriness in her voice. 

" Oh, certainly. Glad to see you," replied Mr. 
Weems, admitting her. But Mr. Weems did not 
look as if he really felt very glad. 

" Pardon me for calling, Julius," she said, " but 
I think I must have left my satchel when I was 
here last week. I cannot find it anywhere." 

Poor thing ! Any excuse would have sufficed to 
account for her coming to try to discover why it 
was that her lover had not visited her for nearly a 

" I do not think it is here," said Mr. Weems ; " I 
am sure it is not, or I should have seen it." 

" Then it is lost beyond recovery," exclaimed 
Leonie, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself, 
while she looked very hard at the artist, who pre- 
tended -to be busy with his picture. 

" Haven't heard anything from your father yet, I 
suppose ? " said Mr. Weems, after a painful interval 
of silence. 

*' Nothing ; absolutely nothing. Poor mother is 
nearly distracted. We are in great trouble. And 
I thought, Julius, you would have been with us 
more during this trial." 


"Well," said Mr. Weems, "you see I have been 
so very busy, and I have had so many engage- 
ments, that I could not iind time enough to call 
very frequently." 

"It looked almost like neglect," said Leonie, 
sadly. " I could hardly bear it." And she put 
her handkerchief to her eyes. 

" Confound it ! " said Mr. Weems to himself, 
" now there is going to be a scene." 

" Mother said she could hardly believe that you 
really loved me," continued Leonie. 

" She said that, did she .'' " asked Mr. Weems, 
somewhat bitterly. " Did she ask you if you 
really loved me ? " 

"No, Julius; she knows that I do. You know 
it, too." 

" Love," said the artist, "means faith, trust, fair 
play, and candor, among other things, I have al- 
ways thought." 

" What do you mean by that, Julius ? " 

" Well, I don't want to be unkind, Leonie ; but 
do you think that a woman who truly loved a man 
would misrepresent her age to him ; or that she 
would be absolutely silent respecting previous en- 
gagements that she had contracted ? How do I 
know that you care more for me than you did for 
Baxter and the others .■* " 

" Mr. Weems," exclaimed Leonie, indignantly, 
*'this is cruel. It is worse, — it is shameful. You 

A QUARREL, 1 73 

seem to have known all there was to know, without 
seeking information from me." 

" That is what made it so very painful," replied 
Mr. Weems, trying to look as if his feelings had 
experienced a terrible wrench. " It was dreadful 
to learn from outside sources what I should iiave 
heard from your own lips. When a woman pre- 
tends to give me her heart, I expect her to give me 
her confidence also." 

" Pretends ! " exclaimed Leonie, rising. " Pre- 
tends ! What do you mean, sir, by ' pretends ' ! 
Do you dare to insinuate that I deliberately de- 
ceived you .'' " 

" Well," said Mr. Weems, calmly, " that is per- 
haps a rather violent construction of my language ; 
but we will not quarrel over phrases." 

" I did not think," said Leonie, tearfully but 
vehemently, " that I should be insulted when I 
came here, — insulted in the midst of my grief. It 
is unmanly, sir ! It is cowardly !" It is infamous ! " 

" I am sorry that you take that view of it. I did 
not intend to be discourteous, I am sure. Pray 
pardon me if I was so. It is clear, however, that, 
after what has passed, we can hardly sustain . our 
former relation to each other." 

"I understand you, sir," replied Leonie, scorn- 
fully ; " I fully realize your meaning. You intended 
at the outset to break our engagement. Well, sir, 
it is broken. I am glad to break it. I regard you 


with scorn and contempt. Hereafter we shall be 
as strangers to each other." 

" I submit to your decision," returned the artist. 
" But — but, of course, you will return my letters ? " 

Leonie laughed a wild and bitter laugh, and, 
gathering up her skirts as if she feared contamina- 
tion, she swept haughtily from the room, without 
speaking another word. 

" That is settled, at any rate ! said Mr. Weems, 
as he closed the door. " That is just what I wanted. 
I can't afford to marry poverty. But it is a bad 
business about those letters of mine ! I wonder if 
she intends to use them against me.^" And Mr. 
Weems, relighting his pipe, sat down in his easy- 
chair to make a mental review of the situation. 

Mr. Weems was not permitted to remain long in 
doubt respecting the intentions of Miss Covvdrick. 
Upon the very next day he received from Messrs. 
Pullock and Shreek, attorneys, formal notice that 
Miss Leonie Cowdrick had authorized them to 
bring a suit against him for breach of promise of 
marriage, the claim for pecuniary damages being 
laid at thirty thousand dollars. 

Mr. Weems regarded the proceeding with not a 
little alarm ; but, upon consulting his lawyer, Mr. 
Porter, and detailing to him the conversation be- 
tween the artist and Leonie at the time of the rup- 
ture, Mr. Weems was assured that he could make 
an excellent defence upon the theory that the lady 

LAW. 175 

had broken the engagement ; and he was strongly 
advised to permit the case to go to trial. 

It did so right speedily ; for the attorneys for the 
plaintiff secured for it an early place upon the list, 
and they manifested a disposition to push the de- 
fendant in the most unmerciful manner permitted 
by the law. 

When the case was called for trial, Mr. Weems's 
lawyer moved for a postponement ; and he pleaded, 
argued, fought, and begged for his motion as if the 
life of his client and his own happiness were staked 
upon a brief delay. As Mr. Weems was quite 
ready to proceed, he could not imagine why there 
should be such earnest contention respecting this 
point. But, of course, it was the regular profes- 
sional thing to do. Mr. Weems's lawyer did not 
really want a continuance. He merely cared to 
put himself right upon the record by conducting 
the performance in the customary manner. 

Messrs. Pullock and Shreek, counsel for the 
plaintiff, resisted the motion vigorously. When 
Mr. Shreek arose to address the court, with regard 
to it, the unpractised spectator would have sup- 
posed that the learned counsel was amazed as well 
as shocked at the conduct of the defence in asking 
that the arm of justice should be stayed, even for a 
week, from visiting punishment upon the monster 
who was now called to answer for his offences. It 
seemed really to grieve Mr. Shreek, to distress and 


hurt him, that the counsel for the defence, a mem- 
ber of an honorable profession, and a man who, 
upon ordinary occasions, had the respect of society 
and the confidence of his fellow-creatures, should 
so far set at defiance all considerations of propriety, 
all sense of what was due to the lovely sufferer who 
came here for protection and redress, and all the 
demands of justice, honor, and decency, as to try 
to keep the hideous facts of this case even for a 
time from the attention of an intelligent and sym- 
pathetic jury. 

Mr. Shreek, as he brought his remarks to a close, 
was so deeply moved by the scandalous nature of 
the conduct of counsel for the defence, that Mr. 
Weems was disposed to believe that the breach be- 
tween them was final and irreparable ; but a moment 
later, when Judge Winker decided that the trial 
must proceed at once, Mr. Weems was surprised to 
perceive his lawyer and Mr. Shreek chatting and 
laughing together precisely as if Mr. Shreek had 
not regarded Mr. Porter's behavior with mingled 
horror and disgust. 

In selecting the jurymen, the manifest purpose 
of the lawyers upon both sides was to reject every 
man of ordinary intelligence, and to prefer the per- 
sons who seemed, from their appearance, least 
likely to possess the power of reaching a rational 
conclusion upon any given subject. And when the 
jury had been obtained, Mr. Weems, looking at 


them, thought that he had never, in all his life, seen 
twelve more stupid-looking men. 

Leonie Cowdrick. came in as the case opened, and 
took a seat close by Mr, PuUock. She was dressed 
with exquisite taste, and Mr. Weems was really 
surprised to perceive that she seemed quite pretty. 

Her face was partly covered by a veil, and in her 
hand she carried a kerchief, with which occasionally 
she gently touched her eyes. 

It was clear enough that Mr. Pullock had her in 
training for the purpose of producing effects upon 
the jury, for whenever during the proceedings any- 
thing of a pathetic nature was developed, Mr. Pul- 
lock signalled her, and at once her handkerchief 
went to her face. 

The trial endured through two days, and much 
of the time was occupied by wrangles, squabbles, 
and fierce recriminations between the lawyers, who, 
after working themselves into furious passion, and 
seeming ready to fall upon each other and tear 
each other to pieces, invariably resumed their 
friendly intercourse during the recesses, and ap- 
peared ready to forgive and forget all the injuries 
of the past. 

One of the jurymen was asleep during the larger 
portion of the sessions upon both days ; two others 
paid no attention to the evidence, but persistently 
gaped about the court-room, and the remainder 
seemed to consider the quarrels between the coun- 


sel as the only matters of genuine importance in 
the case. During the first day Mr. Detective 
Gunn came in, and seeing Mr. Weems, went over 
to whisper in his ear that Cowdrick had been 
arrested, and would reach town upon the morrow. 

" We had to take the reward," said Gunn. " Not 
one of his friends would give any more. It's a 
pity for the old man, too ! I see well enough now 
why you wouldn't lend a hand." And Mr. Gunn 
looked toward Leonie, and laughed. 

When Mr. Porter was not engaged in examining 
or cross-examining a witness, he addressed his at- 
tention to the task of getting upon terms of jolly 
good-fellowship with the members of the jury who 
remained awake. He sat near to the foreman, and 
he was continually passing jokes to that official, 
with the back of his hand to his mouth — jokes 
which the foreman manifestly relished, for he al- 
ways sent them further along in the jury-box. 

This mirthfulness appeared to have a very de- 
pressing effect upon Mr. Pullock, for whenever he 
observed it he assumed a look of deep mournful- 
ness, as if it distressed him beyond measure that 
any one should have an impulse to indulge in lev- 
ity in the presence of the unutterable woe which 
had made the life of his fair but heart-broken client 
simply a condition of hopeless misery. And while 
the reckless jurymen laughed, Mr. Pullock would 
shake his head sadly, seeming to feel as if Justice 


had expanded her wings and fled forever from the 
tribunals of man ; and then he would nudge the 
lovely victim by his side, as a hint for her to hoist 
her handkerchief as another signal to the jury that 
she '^as in distress. 

But Mr. Porter's humor, brutal and unfeeling 
though it might be, could not be restrained. Par- 
ticularly did many of the points in the evidence 
offered by the plaintiff impress him ludicrously ; 
and at times, when Mr. Shreek was developing 
what he evidently regarded as a fact of high and 
solemn importance, Mr. Porter would wink at the 
foreman, and begin to writhe upon his chair in his 
efforts to restrain himself from violating the deco- 
rum of the Temple of Justice by bursting into up- 
roarious laughter. 

These rather scandalous attempts to convey to 
the jurymen who were awake Mr. Porter's theory 
that the testimony for the prosecution was non- 
sense of the most absurd description, and to im- 
press thera with the belief that when Mr. Porter's 
turn came, he would knock it, so to speak, higher 
than a kite, provoked Mr. Shreek to such an ex- 
tent, that, finally, he stopped short in his exami- 
nation of a witness, to snarl out to Mr. Porter : — 

" What are you laughing at ? I don't notice any- 
thing in the testimony that is so very funny ! " 

"The muscles of my face are my own," rejoined 
Mr. Porter, " and I will use them as I please." 


" But you have no right to divert the attention 
of the jury by your buffoonery ! " replied Mr. 
Shreek, angrily. 

" I will laugh when, and how, and at what I 
please, " said Mr. Porter. " I shall not accept any 
dictation from you. It's not my fault if you have 
a ridiculous case ! " 

" I will show you how ridiculous it is before I get 
through," answered Mr. Shreek. 

" I know all about it already ! " said Mr. Porter. 

Then Mr. Shreek proceeded with his examina- 
tion, and Mr. Porter laughed almost out loud two 
or three times, merely to show the jury that he re- 
garded Mr. Shreek's remonstrance with positive 
contempt. But it must be confessed that Mr. Por- 
ter's mirthfulness, in this instance, seemed to lack 
heartiness and spontaneity. 

But when Mr. Porter's turn came to address the 
jury, his sense of humor had become completely 
benumbed, while thac of Mr. Shreek had under- 
gone really abnormal development ; for Mr. Porter 
could hardly attempt to plunge into pathos, or to 
permit his unfettered imagination to take a little 
flight, without Mr. Shreek's humorous susceptibili- 
ties being aroused in such a manner that the clos- 
ure of his mouth with his handkerchief alone pre- 
vented him from offending the dignity of the Court. 

Mr. Porter's appeal to the jury in behalf of his 
client was based upon his asseveration that this 


was the most intelligent jury that he had ever had 
the honor of addressing, and upon his solemn 
conviction that the jurymen not only represented 
accurately the most respectable portion of the 
community, but that, as upon this occasion the 
jury system itself was upon trial to prove whether 
it truly was the bulwark of liberty, that barrier 
against injustice and oppression which it was vaun- 
ted to be, so this jury were, it might be said, called 
upon to determine whether the system was to re- 
tain the respect and confidence of mankind or to 
be branded by public sentiment as a wretched fail- 
ure, and to be regarded in the future by all honor- 
able men with loathing and contempt. 

As two of the jurymen happened to be Irishmen, 
and one of them was a member of the Odd Fel- 
lows' Society, Mr. Porter did not neglect to allude 
to the circumstance that Mr. Weems's great-grand- 
father was born in Ireland ; and the learned coun- 
sel took occasion to speak with indignant warmth 
of the wrongs that have been endured by Ireland, 
and to express his deep sympathy with her unfor- 
tunate and suffering people. 

Of the noble aims and splendid achievements of 
the Odd Fellows' Society, it was hardly necessary 
for Mr. Porter to speak at length. He could never 
hope to command language of sufficient force to 
explain his appreciation of the services rendered to 
Society by this invaluable organization ; but the 


fact that both he and his client had for years be- 
longed to the sacred brotherhood, to which they 
gave their energies and their devotion, was a suf- 
ficient guarantee of the strength of their affection 
for it. 

In concluding, Mr. Porter merely desired to di- 
rect the attention of the gentlemen of the jury to 
the fact that if designing women were to be per- 
mitted to decoy unsuspecting men into contracts 
of marriage merely for the purpose of securing by 
artful means repudiation of the contract, so that 
the ground would be laid for a demand for money, 
then no man was safe, and no one could tell at 
what moment he might fall into a snare laid for 
him by an unprincipled adventuress. Mr, Porter 
then expressed his entire confidence in the inten- 
tion of the jury to give a verdict for his client, and 
he sat down with a feeling that he had discharged 
his duty in an effective manner. 

Mr, Shreek, in reply, observed that he should 
begin with the assertion that in two particulars 
this was one of the most remarkable cases that it 
had ever been his fortune to try. In the first place, 
he was unable to refer to an occasion, during more 
than twenty years' experience at the bar, when he 
had had the honor of addressing a jury so intelli- 
gent and so worthy of being entrusted with inter- 
ests of the very highest character as this one was ; 
and never had he felt so much confidence as he now 

MR. SHREEk's address. 1 83 

felt when he came before these highly-cultivated, 
keenly sagacious, and thoroughly representative 
gentlemen to ask for justice, simple justice, for an 
unhappy woman. In the second place, while it had 
fallen to his lot to witness more than one painful 
and repulsive scene, more than one example of the 
capacity of human beings for reaching the deepest 
depths of degradation, in their efforts to rob Jus- 
tice of her own, and to make her very name a by- 
word and a reproach among the wise and the good, 
he had never yet received so violent a shock as that 
which came to him to-day, when, with mortification 
and grief, he had heard a member of the bar, sworn 
to seek to uphold the sanctity of the law and. the 
honor of a proud profession, not only misrepresent 
the truth most villanously, but so far forget his 
manhood as to stoop to insult, to revile, to smite 
with a ribald and envenomed tongue, a fair and 
noble woman, who already bent beneath an awful 
load of domestic sorrow, and whose only fault was 
that she had come here to seek redress for an in- 
jury the depth of which no tongue could tell, the 
agony of which the imagination of him who has 
not fathomed all the mystery of a woman's love 
could never hope to realize. He would only say, 
in dismissing this most distressing and humiliating 
portion of the subject, that he left the offender to 
the punishment of a conscience which, hardened 
and seared though it was, still must have in store 


for him pangs of remorse of which he, Mr. Shreek, 
trembled to think. 

The learned counsel for the plaintiff asked the 
gentlemen of the jury to review with him the facts 
of the case, as presented to them by the evidence. 

Already they knew something of the trustfulness 
and confidence of woman's nature ; their experi- 
ence within the sacred privacy of the domestic 
circle had taught them that when a woman gave 
her affection, she gave it wholly, never doubting, 
never suspecting, that the object of it might be 
unworthy to wear so priceless a jewel. Such a 
creature, — the peerless being of whom the poet had 
eloquently said, that Earth was a Desert, Eden was 
a Wild, Man was a Savage, until Woman smiled — 
was peculiarly exposed to the wiles of artful and 
unscrupulous men, who, urged by those Satanic 
impulses which appear in some men as unquestion- 
able proof of the truthfulness of the Scriptural 
theory of demoniac possession, should attempt to 
gain the prize only to trample it ruthlessly in the 

In this instance the destroyer came to find a 
pure and beautiful love, with its tendrils ready to 
cling fondly to some dear object. By honeyed 
phrases, by whispered vows so soon to be falsified, 
by tender glances from eyes which revealed none 
of the desperate wickedness of the soul within, by 
all the arts and devices employed upon such occa- 

MR. SHREEK's address. 1 85 

sions, the defendant had persuaded those tendrils to 
cling to him, to entwine about him. Artless, unso- 
phisticated, unlearned in the ways of the sinful 
world, the beautiful plaintiff had listened and be- 
lieved ; and for a few short weeks she was happy 
in the fond belief that this reptile who had crawled 
across the threshold of her maiden's heart was a 
prince of men, an idol whom she might worship 
with unstinted adoration. 

But she was soon to be undeceived. Choosing 
the moment when her natural defender was absent, 
when his coward's deed could be done without the 
infliction of condign punishment from him who 
loved this his only child far better than his life, the 
defendant, scoffing at the holiest of the emotions, 
despising the precious treasure confided to his 
keeping, and gloating over the misery inflicted 
wantonly and savagely by his too brutal hand, cast 
off her love, closed his ears to her sighs, observed 
unmoved the anguish of her soul, and flung her 
aside, heart-broken and despairing, while he passed 
coldly on to seek new hearts to break, new lives to 
blast and ruin, new victims to dupe and decoy with 
his false tongue and his vile hypocrisy. 

In support of his assertions, Mr. Shreek pro- 
posed to read to the jury some of the letters ad- 
dressed by the defendant to the plaintiff, while still 
he maintained an appearance of fidelity to her ; 
and the jury would perceive more clearly than ever 


the blackness of the infamy which characterized 
the defendant's conduct, when at last he showed 
himself in his true colors. 

Mr. Shreek then produced a bundle of letters, 
which had been placed in evidence ; and when he 
did so, the newspaper reporters sharpened their 
pencils, the somnolent juryman awoke, the judge 
laid down his pen to listen. Leonie again wiped 
her eyes, and the crowd of spectators made a buzz, 
which indicated their expectation that they were 
going to hear something of an uncommonly inter- 
esting nature. 

Mr. Weems alone seemed wholly sad. 

Mr. Shreek would first invite the attention of 
the jury to a letter, dated simply " Tuesday morn- 
ing," and signed with the name of the defendant. 
It was as follows : — 

" My Sweet Rosebud " (laughter from the spectators), — 
" Before me lies your darling little letter of yesterday. I 
have read it over and over again, and kissed it many times." 
(Merriment in the court-room.) "Why do you wish that you 
had wings, that you might fly away and be at rest ? " (" No 
wonder she wanted wings," interjected J^r. Shreek.) "Am 
I not all you wish?" ("He didn't seem to be," said Mr. 
Shreek.) " Cannot I make you perfectly happy ? Oh, how 
I love you, my sweet, pretty, charming Rosebud ! You are 
all in all to me. I think I can look down the dim vista of 
time, and see you going with me hand-in-hand through all 
the long and happy years." (" He was not quite so short- 
sighted as he appears to be," said Mr. Shreek ; whereupon 
there was general laughter. Even Leonie laughed a little.) 


** And now, my own sweet love " (laughter), " I must bid you 
good-night. I send you a thousand kisses from your own, 
ever constant Julius." 

" Rosebud ! gentlemen," said Mr. Shreek, as he 
folded the letter away and took out another. 
" Yes, a rosebud, and he the vile canker-worm that 
was eating away its life ! But this is only one of 
many such effusions. Upon another occasion, he 
says : 

"My Birdie," (general laughter,) — "This morning a 
blessing came to me by the hands of the postman, and what 
do you think ? the writer did not sign her name, and I am 
not sure whom I should thank, but I am going to risk thank- 
ing you, my own dear, loving Leonie. Why do you call me 
an angel, darling?" (" That," observed Mr. Shreek, "was 
enough to astonish him ! " And then everybody laughed 
again.) " I am only a plain, prosy man," (" A close shave to 
the truth," said Mr. Shreek,) " but I am exalted by having 
your love. If I were an angel, I would hover over you, my 
sweet," (" And very likely drop something on her," added 
Mr. Shreek,) " and protect you. You ask me if I think of 
you often ! Think of you, Leonie ! I think of nothing 
else." (Laughter.) "You are always in my mind; and if I 
keep on loving you more and more, as I am doing, I shall 
die with half my love untold." (Laughter. "Wonderful 
how he loved her, wasn't it?" remarked Mr. Shreek.) 
" Again I send you a million kisses " (merriment), " and a 
fond good-night, and pleasant dreams. 

" Your adoring J." 

" Observe," said Mr. Shreek, taking out still 
another letter, " how he mocked her ! How hollow, 


how infamous all of that sounds, in view of his 
subsequent treachery ! " 

Here Miss Cowdrick bowed her head and wept, 
and Mr. Weems looked as if he felt that death at 
the stake would be mere pastime in comparison 
with this experience. 

" We now come," said Mr. Shreek, " to letter 
number three — a document which reveals this 
moral monster in even a more hideous light." 

"My Precious One" (great laughter) — "How can I 
ever thank you for the trouble you have taken to make me 
those lovely slippers ? They are two sizes too small for me " 
(laughter); "but I can look at them and kiss them" ("He 
was a tremendous kisser in his way, you observe," said the 
learned counsel), " and think of you meantime. I could not 
come to see you last evening, for I sprained my ankle ; but 
I looked at your picture and kissed it " (laughter. " At it 
again, you see," said Mr, Shreek); "and I read over your 
old letters. There is a knock at my door now, and I must 
stop. But I will say, I love you. Oh, how I love you ! my 
life and my light. Fondly your own Julius." 

"But," continued the eloquent counsel for the 
plaintiff, " this false lover, this maker of vows that 
were as idle as the whispering of the summer 
wind, did not always write prose to the unhappy 
lady whom he had deceived. Sometimes he breathed 
out his bogus affection through the medium of 
verse. Sometimes he invoked the sacred Muse to 
help him to shatter the heart of this loving and 
trustful woman. With the assistance of a rhyming 


dictionary, or perhaps having, with a bold and law- 
less Jiand, filched his sweets from some true poet 
who had felt the impulses of a genuine passion, he 
wrote and sent to my lovely but unfortunate client 
the following lines : 

" Sweetheart, if I could surely choose 

The aptest word in passion's speech " — 

" That," said the counsel, " indicates that he 
would steal his poetry if he could." 

" And all its subtlest meaning use, 

With eloquence your soul to teach ; 
Still, forced by its intensity, 
Sweetheart, my love would voiceless be ! " 


"And heartless, as well as voiceless," added the 


"Sweetheart, though all the days and hours 
Sped by, with love in sharpest stress, 
To find some reach of human powers, 

Its faintest impulse to express. 
Till Time merged in Eternity, 
Sweetheart, my love would voiceless be ! " 

(Roars of laughter.) 

Mr. Shreek declared that he would read no more. 
It made his heart sick — professionally, of course — 
to peruse these revolting evidences of man's inhu- 
manity to lovely woman ; of the amazing perfidy 
of the plaintiff, Weems. This voiceless lover, who 
was not only voiceless, but shameless, feelingless, 


and merciless as well, was now before them, ar- 
raigned by that law whose foremost function was 
to protect the weak, and to punish those who assail 
the helpless. It rests with you, gentlemen, to say 
whether the cry for help made to that law by this 
desolate woman with the lacerated heart shall be 
made in vain. So far as Mr. Shreek was con- 
cerned, he felt perfectly certain that the jury would 
award to his client the full amount of damages — a 
miserable recompense, at the best — for which she 

The Judge's charge was very long, very dull, and 
full of the most formidable words, phrases, and 
references. Those who were able to follow it 
intelligently, however, perceived that it really 
amounted to nothing more than this : If you find 
the defendant guilty, it is your duty to bring in 
a verdict to that effect ; while, upon the other 
hand, if you find him not guilty, you are required 
to acquit him. 

At six o'clock in the evening the jury retired, 
and the court waited for the verdict. At six-thirty, 
the jury sent to ask that the love-letters might be 
given to them ; and it was whispered about that 
one of the jurymen had obtained the impression, 
somehow, that they were written by Miss Cow- 
drick to Weems. At a quarter past seven, the jury 
wanted to know if they could have cigars ; and 
Mr. Porter sent them a couple of bundles at his 


own expense. At eight, word came out that one 
of the jurymen, evidently the slumberer, wanted a 
question of fact cleared up: Was the man suing 
the woman, or the woman the man ? This having 
been settled, the court waited until half past eight, 
when, amid much excitement, the jury came in, and 
disappointed everybody with the announcement 
that it was quite impossible for them to agree. 

Mr. Porter whispered to Mr. Weems that there 
was an Irishman upon that jury whom he felt con- 
fident of from the first. 

The judge went over the case again briefly, 
but learnedly and vaguely, and sent the jury back. 
At nine o'clock the jury came into court a 
second time, and presented a verdict of guilty, 
imposing damages to the amount of five thousand 

There was an outburst of applause ; Leonie 
leaned her head upon the breast of Mr. Pullock, 
and wept from mingled feelings of joy and grief. 
Mr. Shreek observed to Mr. Porter, that "this is 
all we ever expected ; " and Mr. Porter said to 
Weems that he was lucky to get off so easily ; for 
he, Porter, had anticipated a much worse result. 

Poor Weems alone seemed to regard the ver- 
dict with less than perfect satisfaction ; and he 
was no better pleased next morning, when Colonel 
Hoker's Crab and all the other papers came out 
with reports of the trial in flaring type, and 


with the entire batch of love-letters, poetry and 
all, in full. 

The journals also contained an announcement 
that Mr. Cowdrick had been captured and brought 
home, and had at once been released upon bail. 





R. COWDRICK again sat in his easy- 
chair, in his library, before the sham fire, 
and with him sat his wife and daughter. 
They were talking of the trial of Mr. Cowdrick, 
which was to begin on the morrow. 

" It is very disagreeable, of course," said Mr. 
Cowdrick ; " but in this life we have to take the 
bitter with the sweet." 

"But, oh, papa," said Leonie, '' how dreadful it 
will be if the verdict goes against you. Do you 
think they would actually send a man of your po- 
sition to a horrid prison .'' " 

" Leonie ! " exclaimed Mrs. Cowdrick, " I am 
surprised at your speaking of such things. Pray 
don't do it again. My nerves will not stand it." 

"You need not be alarmed, my dear child," said 
Mr. Cowdrick, smiling. " My friends have arranged 
things comfortably for me with the prosecuting at- 


torney, and the other authorities. I had an offer 
made to me to have the jury packed in my interest, 
but I was assured that it was unnecessary, and, be- 
sides, I felt that it would perhaps be wrong for me 
to descend to corruption." 

*' It is a terrible experience at the best," said 
Mrs. Cowdrick ; "but there is some satisfaction in 
the reflection that we are not reduced to absolute 

" That is my greatest consolation," rejoined Mr. 
Cowdrick. " Pinyard tells me that I may count on 
saving at least two hundred and fifty thousand dol- 
lars from the wreck ; invested in good securities, too." 

" Then we can go to a watering-place, next sum- 
mer, as usual ? " asked Leonie. 

" Yes, dear." 

" And can we keep our carriage and our servants, 
and everything, just as before ?" 

" Certainly ; there will be no difference." 

Leonie reflected for a moment, and then sighed 

" And I think very likely," said Mr. Cowdrick, 
" that my poor little girl can have her lover back 
again, if she wants him, too." 

" Papa, what do you mean } " asked Leonie. 

"Why, I commissioned a man named Gunn, in 
whom I have some confidence, to visit Weems, and 
to sound him, to ascertain how he felt with regard 
to the result of your suit." 



" Gunn reports to me that Weems feels repent- 
ant ; says he always loved you, and would give 
anything to have the past recalled." 

Here Mr. Cowdrick, having constructed a sturdy 
falsehood, winked at his wife ; and Leonie said : 

" Well, papa, I don't know whether I am quite 
willing to forgive him, but I confess that I care 
more for Julius than for any other person." 

"We shall see what can be done," remarked Mr. 
Cowdrick. " And now you must excuse me. I 
have to go to meet my counsel to prepare for the 
trial ; " and Mr. Cowdrick withdrew. 

The interview between Mr. Weems and Mr. 
Benjamin P. Gunn, to which Mr. Cowdrick alluded, 
was conducted upon a rather different basis from 
that indicated by the banker in his conversation 
with Leonie. 

Mr. Gunn, upon his entrance to the studio of the 
artist, began by expressing his regret at the issue 
of the breach of promise suit. 

"Yes, confound it," said Mr. Weems; "it is 
hard, isn't it .-' To think that that old faded flower 
of a girl should be smart enough to get the better 
of me in such a manner ! " 

"The damages are heavy too," said Gunn, 
thoughtfully ; "and I understand that she is firmly 
resolved to compel you to pay the money." 

" That is the worst of it ! The mortification was 


bad enough ; but five thousand dollars to pay on 
top of that ! Why, it's simply awful." 

"The amount would cover the price of a good 
many pictures, wouldn't it ? " 

" Yes ; and just now the market is so overloaded 
with old masters, that they hardly fetch the value 
of the canvas they are painted on. A house- 
painter makes more money than an artist." 

" It must be a desire for revenge that induces the 
lady to be so eager for the money. She is not poor." 

" I guess she is. Old Cowdrick will have to 
give up everything, I suppose." 

Mr. Gunn smiled, and looked wise. Then he 
said, '" Mr. Weeras, I'll let you into a secret if you 
will keep it to yourself." 

" I will, certainly." 

"Well, sir, I know, — I don't merely think, — I 
know that Cowdrick is going to come out of this 
thing with at least a quarter of a million. He'll be 
just as comfortable as ever," 

" That is nearly incredible." 

" It is the truth, at any rate ; and I can prove it." 

" But how about his crimes } He is tolerably 
certain to go to prison." 

" What, Cowdrick } Cowdrick go to prison .-* 
Not a bit of it ! He is too respectable. That has 
all been fixed in advance, unless I am misinformed." 

Mr. Weems reflected in silence for a few mo- 
ments. Then Mr. Gunn, rising to go, said, — 


" It is none of my business, sir, of course ; I only 
came in to give you the facts because I felt friendly 
to you. But if I had my choice between paying 
five thousand dollars and compromising with the 
plaintiff, I know very well what I would do, partic- 
ularly if the plaintiff would rather have the man 
than the money. Good morning, Mr. Weems ; " 
and Mr. Gunn withdrew. 

"A quarter of a million!" said Mr. Weems to 
himself, as he sat alone, meditating upon the situa- 
tion. " What a fool I was. I might have known 
that old Cowdrick would take care of himself and 
soon get upon his legs again. I believe that man 
Gunn was sent here to feel the way for a reconcil- 
iation, and I have half a notion to attempt one. 
I'll make a movement toward it, anyhow. I'll write 
a letter to Cowdrick, and if he gets out of the 
clutches of the law I will send it to him, and see if 
we can't make up the quarrel." 

Then Mr. Weems went to his desk and penned 
the following epistle : — 

" Henry P. Cowdrick, Esq. 

"Dear Sir, — I write to you with much diffidence and 
with deep apprehension as to the resuh, concerning a matter 
in which my happiness is seriously involved. I need not re- 
hearse the facts concerning my unfortunate differences with 
Leonie ; but I wish to say that I shall never cease to regret 
that a mere lovers' quarrel, which should have been forgotten 
and forgiven a moment afterwards, should have caused, under 
the influence of senseless anger, a breach which, I fear, is now 


irreparable. For my part, reflection upon my conduct in the 
business makes me utterly miserable, for I cannot hide from 
myself, and I will not attempt to hide from you, that my af- 
fection for your daughter has lost none of its intensity be- 
cause of the occurrences of which I have spoken. I love her 
now as fondly as I ever loved her ; and though it should be 
ordained by fate that we shall never meet again, I shall cher- 
ish her image in my heart until my dying day, and I shall 
never cease to breathe earnest petitions for her happiness. 
" Believe me, Yours very truly, 

"Julius Weems." 

"That," said Mr. Weems, "ought to bring him 
to terms, if he really means business." 

Then Mr. Weems folded the letter, directed it, 
and slipped it into his pocket to await the result of 
Mr. Covvdrick's trial. 

It would be injudicious to linger over the details 
of Mr. Cowdrick's trial, lest we should have a sur- 
feit of legal proceedings. Both the prosecution and 
the defence were conducted with vigor and ability, 
and the jury, after remaining out for a very little 
while, found Mr. Cowdrick guilty of sundry crimes 
and misdemeanors of a particularly infamous 

When the verdict had been presented, a singu- 
larly affecting scene ensued. 

Amid a silence that was painful in its intensity, 
the prosecuting attorney, hardly able to control his 
emotion, rose to move that sentence be passed 
upon the prisoner at the bar. In doing so, he took 


occasion to remark that the prosecution had no de- 
sire to crush to the earth the unfortunate gentle- 
man whom it had been compelled, in the perform- 
ance of a most unpleasant duty, to arraign before 
the tribunal of justice. The lesson that men must 
not betray their trusts, and -recklessly misuse the 
property of others, had been plainly taught by the 
conviction. That was the leading purpose of the 
prosecution ; it was ample fulfilment of the demands 
of the law and of society, and it supplied to other 
men, especially to the young, a sufficiently solemn 
warning against indulgence in extravagance and in 
unwise speculation. It would be harsh — perhaps 
even cruel — in this instance to inflict a severe pen- 
alty, not alone because of the high social standing 
of the prisoner at the bar, but because it was clear 
enough that he did not take the money of others 
solely for his own benefit, but for the advancement 
of enterprises in which others were interested — en- 
terprises which seemed to him likely to promote 
the industrial activity of the country, and to add 
largely to the wealth of the nation. With these 
remarks, he submitted the whole matter to the dis- 
cretion of the Court, earnestly hoping that his 
Honor would find it possible to give to the prisoner 
an opportunity to retrieve the past by his future 
good conduct. 

As the prosecuting attorney sat down, the court- 
room was bathed in tears. 


Then the leading counsel for Mr. Cowdrick arose. 
It was a moment or two before his feelings would 
permit him to command his utterance ; and when, 
at last, he was able with a broken voice to speak, 
he said that he could not find language of sufficient 
warmth in which to express his sense of the justice, 
the human kindness, the frank generosity of the 
prosecuting attorney. These qualities, as here 
exhibited, did credit to his head and heart, and en- 
titled him to the commendation of the wise and the 
good. The learned counsel should never for a mo- 
ment believe his client to be guilty of that of which 
he seemed to have been found technically guilty, 
and he could add little to the fitting and eloquent 
words that had just been spoken. It had been 
written, "Vengeance is Mine," and it was not for 
an earthly tribunal to seek to inflict vengeance. 
His client's errors, if errors they really were, were 
of the head, not of the heart ; and he was sure that 
the Court would never undertake to humiliate this 
excellent and worthy man, who, during a long ca- 
reer, had been an honored citizen of the community, 
by even approaching a sentence which might make 
him look like a felon, " I need hardly say to your 
Honor," continued the learned counsel, "that to 
impose the extreme penalty provided in this case 
would not only close the doors of the prison upon 
this estimable citizen, but would bring desolation 
to a happy home, would break the hearts of those 


who are dear to him, and would achieve no good 
purpose that has not already been attained." 
Trusting in the clemency of the Court, the learned 
counsel sat down, while the court-room echoed the 
sobs of the spectators. 

The judge, wiping his eyes, and trying hard not 
to give way to his feelings, said, — 

" Mr. Cowdrick will please rise. As you are 
aware, Mr. Cowdrick, I have but a single duty to 
perform. I must impose the sentence as it is pro- 
vided by the law. I remember your social position, 
and your former conduct as a worthy member of 
society, and I have fully estimated the importance 
of the suggestion that your offences were perpe- 
trated largely for the benefit of others. It gives 
me, therefore, great pleasure to find in the statute 
a limitation which enables me to inflict a penalty 
less severe than, otherwise, I should have been 
compelled to inflict. I impose upon you a fine of 
five hundred dollars, as provided in the statute, you 
to stand committed until the fine is paid." 

As the judge pronounced the sentence, a great 
cheer went up. Mr. Cowdrick's counsel paid the 
fine at once, and Mr. Cowdrick, after shaking hands 
with the lawyers and receiving the apology of the 
prosecuting attorney for pushing him so hard, took 
his hat and walked out of the court-room a free and 
happy man. 

Then a new jury was called to try a book-keeper, 


who, because his salary was insufficient for the 
support of his family, had stolen three hundred dol- 
lars from his employer. 

The prosecuting attorney was unable to perceive 
anything of a pathetic nature in the case, and when 
the jury promptly brought in a verdict of guilty, 
the judge, with a perfectly dry eye, sentenced the 
prisoner to incarceration at hard labor for ten years. 

Although the Goddess of Justice is blindfolded, 
she has sometimes a very discriminating sense of 
the relative importance of sinners who come to her 
for judgment. 






^NE of the first of Mr. Cowdrick's friends 
who called to congratulate him upon the 
result of the painful ordeal to which he 
had been subjected was Father Tunicle. 

"It must have been," said the faithful pastor, "a 
terrible strain upon a man of delicate sensibility to 
sit there, uncertain what your fate would be. I 
sympathize with you heartily, and rejoice that the 
end was not worse." 

" You are very kind," said Mr. Cowdrick, smiling. 
" Life is full of sorrows and afflictions for all of us ; 
and of course I cannot expect to escape bearing my 
share of them." 

" No ; and it is a comfort to reflect that these 
troubles are sent to us for our good. I shall expect 
you now to be a more efficient worker than ever at 
St. Cadmus's." 

" I don't know," replied Mr. Cowdrick reflect- 


ively. " Possibly it might be better, all things 
considered, if I should not resume my official 
position in the church." 

" But, really, you must," answered Father Tuni- 
cle. " You are still a member of the vestry, and 
matters will move more smoothly now, for Yetts 
has resigned. He was the thorn in my side." 

" Where has Yetts gone .■' " 

" I believe he has taken a pew at St. Sepulchre's, 
which, you know, is extremely Low Church. Poor 
Yetts ! He has fallen very far ! Do you know 
that the rector of St. Sepulchre's positively will not 
use a red altar-cloth on martyrs' days ; and that he 
walks to church with an umbrella upon the Festival 
of St. Swithin, — a positive insult to the memory 
of the saint." 

" Incredible ! " exclaimed Mr. Cowdrick. 

" I have it upon good authority. Such practices 
do much to hinder the progress of the work of 

" I should think so," said Mr. Cowdrick. 

"And speaking of that work," continued Father 
Tunicle, " I want to obtain a little pecuniary 
assistance from you. I have just prepared for 
circulation among the depraved poor a little tract 
upon the sufferings of St. Blasius of Cappadocia, 
but I have not money enough to print it. Can you 
help me } " 
.•'Certainly. How much do you want.''" 


" Fifty dollars are all that I ought to ask for. 
That sum, I think, will enable me to increase the 
religious fervor of the poor in my parish to a notable 

Mr. Cowdrick handed the money to the devoted 
clergyman, who thereupon withdrew. 

Another early caller upon Mr. Cowdrick was an 
agent of the Widows' and Orphans* Life Assurance 
Company, in which the banker held a policy. This 
gentleman, representing a corporation which a week 
before was preparing to take legal measures to 
contest Mrs. Cowdrick's claim, brought with him 
the Company's last annual statement, and a for- 
midable array of other documents, with an intent 
to persuade Mr. Cowdrick to have his life insured 
for an additional twenty thousand dollars. 

Upon the second day after Mr. Cowdrick's 
release, also, the De Flukes sent to Mrs. Cowdrick 
an invitation to a kettle-drum, together with a note 
explaining that a former unfortunate recall of an 
invitation was due to the colossal stupidity of a 
servant who had since been dismissed. 

This very considerate behavior on the part of the 
De Flukes had a favorable effect upon Mrs. Cow- 
drick's spirits. She brightened up in a wonderful 
manner, and there seemed to be every reason for 
believing that her load of sorrow was lifted at last. 

Colonel Hoker, writing in the Crab of the trial 
and its results, explained to his readers that the 


verdict was rather technical than indicative of 
intentional wrong-doing, and he congratulated the 
community that one of its most enterprising and 
valuable citizens had succeeded in escaping from 
the toils of complicated financial transactions in 
which he had been enveloped by injudicious friends. 

Colonel Hoker was disposed to criticise with 
some degree of severity Coroner McSorley's absurd, 
not to say wicked, performances with the unearthed 
bones ; but the violence of the indignation with 
which he contemplated the phenomenal stupidity 
and the grasping avarice of the coroner, with 
respect to the remains in question, was greatly 
tempered by the consideration that Coroner Mc- 
Sorley's brother was sheriff of the county, with an 
advertising patronage estimated by good judges to 
amount to not less than fifty thousand dollars a 

When Mr. Cowdrick received the note addressed 
to him by Mr. Weems, he replied briefly, asking the 
artist to call upon him at his residence ; and when 
Mr. Weems did so, Mr. Cowdrick received him 
with gravity, and with some degree of coolness. 

" Mr. Weems," said the banker, " I sent for you 
because I wished to discuss with you the matter 
referred to in your note My first impulse was to 
take no notice of the communication, for I will not 
conceal from you that your treatment of my 
daughter had embittered me against you to such 


an extent, that I felt as if I could never forgive you. 
But my child's happiness must be considered before 
my own feelings. It is my duty and my privilege 
so to consider them ; and, to be frank with you, her 
sufferings have been so intense within the last few 
days, that I have felt myself willing to make almost 
any sacrifice in order to alleviate them." 

" Miss Leonie is not ill, I trust ? " asked Mr. 
Weems, with an admirably simulated look of alarm 
upon his countenance. 

" Mr. Weems," said Mr. Cowdrick, seriously, " it 
may be injudicious for me to say so to you, because 
it will give you an unfair advantage at the outset ; 
but Leonie has been deeply distressed at your 
treatment of iier. If I were a sentimental man, I 
should say that her heart is breaking. She refuses 
food, she is continually downcast and melancholy, 
and in her broken sleep she babbles continually of 

" Poor thing ! " said Mr. Weems, wiping his eyes. 

" Mrs. Cowdrick and I have been much distressed 
because of her condition ; but we should have been 
at a loss for a remedy if your note had not sug- 
gested one." 

" I have been equally unhappy myself," said Mr. 
Weems. " I wrote because I could find relief for 
my feelings in no other manner." 

"Now that you are here," continued Mr. Cow- 
drick, "we might as well have a complete under- 


Standing, Are you prepared to make a proposition 
of any kind ? " 

" I should like to offer a suggestion, if I dared." 

" You have my permission to speak freely ; and 
I would add, in order to remove any misapprehen- 
sion, that Leonie Cowdrick need not seek an 
alliance unless she chooses to do so, for her parents 
are well able to maintain her in luxury." 

'•Well, Mr. Cowdrick," replied Mr. Weems, 
" what I have to say is, that if Leonie can forgive 
and forget the past, it will give me the greatest 
happiness to renew my engagement with her, and 
to return to the conditions that existed before that 
miserable quarrel occurred. Do you think she will 
consent .''" 

" Under some pressure from me and from her 
mother, I think she will. For my part, I am will- 
ing to overlook what has happened, and to receive 
you once more into my family." 

Mr. Cowdrick extended his hand, and Mr. 
Weems shook it warmly. 

"And now, Mr. Weems," said Mr. Cowdrick, 
" there's another matter, of which I wish to speak. 
I refer to your art. Pardon me for asking you, but 
although I shall make some provision for Leonie, 
you, of course, must do something also. What is 
the condition of your art — in a financial sense, I 
mean ? " 

"Well, business is a little dull just at this mo- 

HIGH ART. 209 

" I thought SO. The proportion of old masters 
in the market to the purchasing population is too 
great. Can't you take up something else ? " 

Mr. Weems reflected for a moment upon the 
painful lack of opportunities to rob banks with im- 
punity and profit, and then said, — 

" No ; I am afraid not. I am a painter and must 
live by painting." 

"Just so; but why not paint pictures that can 
be sold readily .-' " 

" There is no money in landscapes, still-life, or 
figure-pieces, unless a man has genius. A painter 
of ordinary powers has no chance." 

" But why not imitate genius, just as you imitate 
the old masters .-' " 

" How do you mean } " 

" Genius is apt to be eccentric. If you make a 
show of eccentricity, most persons will accept that 
as a sure token of genius. You want to be odd, 
novel, peculiar, altogether different from other 

" There may be something in that." 

" Paint a Venus with feet like a fishwoman, and 
with a cast in her eye. Paint a Moses with a 
moustache and spectacles. Daub off a jet-black 
night-scene, in which you can perceive nothing but 
absolute, impenetrable gloom, and label it ' A Med- 
itation upon Darkness ; ' cover a canvas with blots 
of white paint, with nothing but the bowsprit 'of a 


ship visible, and call it * A Misty Morning m the 
Harbor.' That is the way to provoke criticism 
and discussion, to acquire notoriety, and to find 

" It is a good idea," replied Mr. Weems. " I am 
much obliged to you for it ; I will accept it, and 
act upon it." 

"Would you like to see Leonie before you go?" 
asked Mr, Cowdrick. 

" If she is willing, I should very much," 

" I will speak to her about it, and prepare her 
for the interview," said Mr. Cowdrick, withdrawing 
from the room. 

A moment later he returned with Leonie upon 
his arm. She had her handkerchief to her eyes. 

" Leonie," said Mr. Cowdrick, " this is Julius, 
He asks you to forgive him." 

Leonie lifted up her head, and the lovers looked 
at each other for an instant. Then she flew into 
his arms before a word had been spoken by either 
of them, and as he clasped her closely, she nestled 
her head upon his bosom, 

Mr. Weems retained his self-possession so per- 
fectly during this touching scene that he was con- 
scious of the fracture of some cigars in his waist- 
coat pocket by the presence of Leonie's shoulder ; 
but he bore the disaster bravely, without flinching. 

Before he released his hold of her, Mrs. Cowdrick 
entered the room, and was so much overcome by 

'Then she Flew into his Arms." Page 210. 


the intensity of her emotions when she saw the lov- 
ers, that she dropped upon the sofa, and remained 
in a hysterical condition for at least ten minutes, 
despite the efforts of Mr. Cowdrick to soothe her. 

When Mrs. Cowdrick's emotion had at last been 
brought to some extent under control, Mr. Cow- 
drick . suggested that it might be as well to fix at 
once upon a da)'' for the wedding, so that the two 
lovers, after all the sorrows and misunderstandings 
that had kept them apart, might enter the perfect 
bliss and the sure serenity of wedlock. 

Mr. Cowdrick pressed for an early date, and al- 
though Mrs. Cowdrick betrayed new and alarming 
hysterical symptoms when her husband expressed 
the opinion that all the arrangements might be 
made within a week, she finally reconciled herself 
to the selection by Leonie of a day exactly three 
weeks distant. 

Upon the very next morning Mrs. Cowdrick and 
Leonie began the work of preparation ; and it is 
unnecessary to say that while the labor continued, 
both of them were in a state of nearly perfect fe- 

If earth is ever to a woman a little heaven here 
below, it is when she is called upon to go shopping 
upon a large scale with a long purse. The female 
mind experiences the purest joy when there are 
bonnets to be trimmed, fabrics to be matched, 
dresses to be made, underclothing to be stitched 


and frilled, pillow-cases and sheets to be made up, 
towels to be fringed and marked, furniture to be 
selected, crockery to be purchased, and a general 
fitting-out to be undertaken. Mrs. Cowdrick soon 
had a dozen sempstresses employed, and eVery day 
she and Leonie, in a frame of exquisite happiness, 
made the round of the shops, gathering huge heaps 
of parcels. One single touch of alloy came to miti- 
gate the intensity of their enjoyment. The dia- 
mond merchant and the dealer in sealskin sacques, 
having learned from harsh experience the peril of 
Mrs. Cowdrick's enthusiasm for nice things, un- 
kindly insisted upon making their contributions to 
Leonie's outfit upon a basis of cash in hand before 
delivery of the goods. But then we must not ex- 
pect to have absolutely pure joy in this world. 

Cards for the wedding were sent out at once to 
all of the friends of the bride and groom, and of Mr. 
and Mrs. Cowdrick. Of course, it can hardly be 
expected that the union of two lovers should excite 
very tender sympathy among disinterested persons ; 
but it is rather melancholy to reflect that most of 
the individuals who received cards from the Cow- 
dricks did not accept the compliment with unmixed 
satisfaction. The first thought that occurred to 
them upon reading the invitation was that they 
would be compelled to expend something for wed- 
ding presents, and many of them had a feeling, not 
clearly defined, but still strong, that the marriage 


of Cowdrick's daughter was somehow a mean kind 
of an attempt on Cowdrick's part to levy tribute 
upon them. 

The presents, however, soon began to come in. 
Father Tunicle was heard from among the first 
He sent a sweet little volume of his sermons (the 
lithographed discourse not being included among 
them). The book had been published at the cost 
of a few of the reverend gentleman's admirers, 
whose expectations of the result were rather disap- 
pointed by the sale of no more than thirty-four 
copies within two years. Father Tunicle sent the 
book to Leonie, with a touching note, requesting 
her especial attention to the sermon upon Auric- 
ular Confession, upon page 75. Colonel Hoker, of 
the Crab, sent a handsome silver-plated tea-set, 
whose value to Leonie was not in any manner de- 
creased by the circumstance, unknown to her, that 
the Colonel had taken it from a former advertiser 
in payment for a bad debt. The De Flukes sent a 
pair of elegant fish-knives quite large enough to 
have served at a dinner where a moderate-sized 
whale should follow the soup, and certainly utterly 
useless for the dissection and distribution of any 
fish of smaller dimensions than a sturgeon. The 
Higginses, who were not in very good circum- 
stances^ and who were trying hard to save up 
enough money to pay for a fortnight's visit to the 
seaside in the summer, reluctantly sent a cake- 


basket, because Mr. Cowdrick had given one to 
Maria Higgins the year before, upon the occasion 
of her union with Dr. Turmeric. If Mr. Higgins 
had ventured, in the note he sent with the gift, to 
express his true feelings, the vehemence of his ut- 
terance would have made Leonie's head swim ; but, 
happily, he controlled himself. 

A perfect outrage was, however, perpetrated by 
Mr. John Doubleday, who had lost heavily by the 
failure of Mr. Cowdrick's bank. He positively had 
the impudence to enclose to Leonie, with his com- 
pliments, a cheque for one hundred dollars upon the 
aforesaid late financial institution. Mr. Cowdrick 
said that a man who was capable of doing a thing 
of that kind was not fit to live in civilized society. 

Mr. Weems's artist friends all sent pictures, 
evidently with an intent that Weems should begin 
his married life with the walls of his dwelling cov- 
ered with " pot-boilers," whose unsalable qualities 
made them as ineffective in that capacity as they 
were in their pretensions to be regarded as works 
of art. Weems felt, as he surveyed the collection, 
that there must have been among the brethren an 
organized conspiracy to unload upon him the 
corners of the studios. 

Among the other presents received were travel- 
ling-cases, which held nothing that anybody ever 
wints upon a journey ; cheap spoons put into a case 
marked with the name of a first-class silversmith, 


with an intent to create a wrong impression re- 
specting the quality of the wares; and a host of 
trifles, most of them completely useless, and all of 
them accounted by the bride and groom as so much 
spoil collected under the duress of a custom which 
is idiotic when it requires anything that is not a 
genuine expression of affection or esteem. 

At last, when every indignant friend had sent in 
a contribution, when all the dresses were made, the 
bonnets constructed, and the frippery and fiddle- 
faddle and frills arranged, the day of the wedding 
came. It must be described, of course. But why 
should an unpractised hand attempt to tell of it, 
when there is, within easy reach, the narrative 
written by the expert and dexterous fashion reporter 
of the Daily Crab ? Far better would it be to 
transfer bodily to these pages that faithful and 
complete description. 

{From the " Daily Crab.") 


"St. Cadmus's Church, Perkiomen Square, yes- 
terday was the scene of one of the most brilliant 
weddings of the season. For some weeks past the 
approaching event has been an absorbing topic of 
conversation in fashionable circles, the loveUness 
of the bride-elect, the popularity of the fortunate 
groom, and the high social standing of all the 


interested parties having invested the matter with 
more than ordinary importance. The bride was 
Miss Leonie Cowdrick, only daughter of the well- 
known ex-banker and philanthropist, Henry G. 
Cowdrick, Esq., and herself one of the leading belles 
of the bon ton. The groom was Julius Weems, 
Esq., the artist, a man whose skill as a wielder of 
the brush, not less than his qualities of head and 
heart, have made him the idol of a large circle of 

" The wedding ceremony was announced for 
half-past four in the afternoon ; and long beforei 
that hour the streets in the vicinity of St. Cadmus's 
were thronged with equipages belonging to the elite 
of our society. None were admitted to the church 
but those who were so happy as to possess cards ; 
the edifice, however, was densely thronged, with the 
exception of the pews which were reserved in the 
front for the immediate family and near relatives of 
the high contracting parties. 

"The ushers, who officiated with rare delicacy 
and discrimination, were Messrs. Peter B. Thomas, 
Arthur McGinn Dabney, G, G. Parker, and Daniel 
O'Huff — all of them brother artists of the groom's, 
and men well known in cultivated circles. 

•' Professor Peddle presided at the organ, and 
previous to the arrival of the bridal party he dis- 
coursed most delicious music. 

"Among the distinguished persons who graced 


the occasion with their presence, we noted the 
following : — 

" Major-Gen. Bung, Colonel Growler, Professor 
Boodle, Rev. Dr. Wattles, Judge Potthinkle, Captain 
Dingus, Major Doolittle, Hon. John Gigg, M.C., 
Judge Snoozer, of the Supreme Court ; Miss Delilah 
Hopper (Minnie Myrtle), the famous authoress of 
' The Bride of an Evening,' * A Broken Heart,' etc., 
etc.. Professor Blizzard, State Entomologist ; Gov- 
ernor Tilby, Ex-Governor Raffles, Dr. Borer, U.S.A.; 
Rear-Admiral Mizzen, U.S.N.; Senator Smoot, 
Signor Portulacca, the Venezuelan Ambassador, 
General Curculio, Minister from Nicaragua; General 
Whisker, the railroad magnate ; Colonel and Mrs. 
Grabeau, Dr. Hummer, Thos. G. Witt, Esq., Hon. 
John Grubb, Captain Mahoney, of the State Militia ; 
Professor Smith, of the University ; Galusha M. 
Budd, President of the Board of Trade ; Hon. P. 
R. Bixby, Mayor of the City ; and many others. 

"At precisely five o'clock. Rev. Mr. Tunicle 
entered the church in full ecclesiastical vestments, 
accompanied by Rev. Dr. Pillsbury, and by Rev. 
John A. Stapleton, an uncle of the bride's. At this 
juncture the organ sounded the first notes of the 
Coronation March from 'II Prophete,' and the bride 
entered upon the arm of her father. Following her 
came the groom, with Miss Lillie Whackle, the first 
bridesmaid, and these were succeeded by the re- 
mainder of the bridal party. 


" The bride was dressed with exquisite taste, in 
a white satin costume, which had creamy lace in 
jabots down the waist and sides, mingled with pearl 
trimmings ; while the sleeves coming only to the 
elbow, were made entirely of lace. The back was 
left quite plain, with waist and skirt in one. Upon 
her head she wore a dainty wreath of orange 
blossoms, and, of course, the usual veil, 

"Among other costumes in the bridal party, we 
noticed a Lyons tulle, made up over satin, with 
flowing rosettes, and ribbons of white satin for 

" Attention was directed also to a white tarletan 
trimmed with Breton lace and insertions, and 
covered with bows and loops and ends of satin 

" One of the ladies of the party wore a dis- 
tinguished costume of cream-colored satin, with 
paniers of Pekin grenadine, with stripes of white 
alternating with stripes of cream-color ; there was a 
satin corsage, plain, like a basque ; and across the 
front-breadths of the skirt there were soft puffs of 
satin and grenadine. 

"Mrs. Cowdrick, the mother of the bride, ap- 
peared in a regal toilette of black velvet and 

" The ceremony was read in a deeply impressive 
manner by Rev. Mr, Tunicle, the bride being given 
away, of course, by her father. 


"Mrs. Cowdrick was so strongly affected by the 
consciousness that her daughter was being taken 
from her, that at the conclusion of the ceremony 
she displayed some slight hysterical symptoms, 
which for a moment threatened to create confusion. 
She became calmer, however, and was led out from 
the church by one of the ushers, weeping. 

" Professor Peddle then began Mendelssohn's 
Wedding March, and the proud and happy groom, 
with his lovely wife upon his arm, turned to lead 
the bridal party down the aisle. 

" We learn that a magnificent entertainment was 
given later in the day at the residence of Mr. Cow- 
drick, to his friends, and that the festivities were 
prolonged until a late hour. It is understood that 
the newly-married couple will spend their honey- 
moon at Saratoga." 

The reporter was not admitted to the entertain- 
ment, and so there is upon record no description 
of it. But we might, if we chose, safely guess at 
hot rooms, so crowded that motion was nearly 
impossible ; at absurd attempts to dance within 
narrow spaces ; at rows of wall-flowers along the 
sides of the rooms ; at inane attempts at conver- 
sation between guests who were strangers to each 
other ; of groups of uncomfortable people trying to 
appear as if they felt very happy ; of a supper-table 
loaded with rich viands for which well-dressed men 


scrambled as if they had been fasting for weeks ; 
of ices spilled upon costly dresses, and champagne 
glasses emptied upon fine coats ; and, finally, of 
departing guests in the gentlemen's dressing-rooms, 
saying unhandsome things to each other in sneering 
whispers of the man whose hospitality they had 

We can imagine these things ; and perhaps if we 
could have looked into the house at two o'clock in 
the morning when the last guest had said farewell, 
we might have heard Mr. Cowdrick say, as he 
threw himself weary and worn in an easy-chair, — 

" Well, thank goodness, Louisa, Leonie is ofif of 
our hands at last ! " 



HE good old times ! And the old times 
were good, my dear ; better, much better, 
than the times that you live in. I know I 
am an old fogy, Nelly," said Ephraim Batterby, 
refilling his pipe, and looking at his granddaughter, 
who sat with him in front of the fire, with her head 
bending over her sewing ; " I know I am an old 
fogy, and I glory in it." 

" But you never will be for me, grandpa," said 
Nelly, glancing at him with a smile. 

" Yes, my dear, I am for everybody. I am a 
man of the past. Everything I ever cared for and 
ever loved, excepting you, belongs to the years that 
have gone, and my affections belong to those years. 
I liked the people of the old time better than I do 
those of the new. I loved their simpler ways, the 
ways that I knew in my boyhood, threescore and 
more years ago. I am sure the world is not so 
good as it was then. It is smarter, perhaps ; it 
knows more, but its wisdom vexes and disgusts 
me. I am not certain, my dear, that, if I had my 


way, I would not sweep away, at one stroke, all the 
so-called * modern conveniences,' and return to the 
ancient methods," 

" They were very slow, grandpa." 

" Yes, slow ; and for that I liked them. We go 
too fast now ; but our speed, I am afraid, is hurry- 
ing us in the wrong direction. We were satisfied 
in the old time with what we had. It was good 
enough. Are men contented now .-' No ; they 
are still improving and improving ; still reaching 
out for something that will be quicker, or easier, or 
cheaper than the things that are. We appear to 
have gained much ; but really we have gained 
nothing. We are not a bit better off now than we 
were ; not so well off, in my opinion." 

" But, grandpa, you must remember that you 
were young then, and perhaps looked at the world 
in a more hopeful way than you do now." 

" Yes, I allow for that, Nelly, I allow for that ; I 
don't deceive myself. My youth does not seem so 
very far off that I cannot remember it distinctly. 
I judge the time fairly, now in my old age, as I 
judge the present time, and my assured opinion is 
that it was superior in its ways, its life, and its 
people. Its people ! Ah, Nelly, my dear, there 
were three persons in that past who alone would 
consecrate it to me. I am afraid there are not 
many women now like your mother and mine, and 
like my dear wife, whom you never saw. It seems 


to me, my child, that I would willingly live all my 
life over again, with its strifes and sorrows, if I 
could clasp again the hand of one of those angelic 
women, and hear a word from her sweet lips." 

As the old man wiped the gathering moisture 
from his eyes, Nelly remained silent, choosing not 
to disturb the reverie into which he had fallen. 
Presently Ephraim rose abruptly, and said, with 
a smile, — 

" Come, Nelly dear, I guess it is time to go to 
bed. I must be up very early to-morrow morning." 

" At what hour do you want breakfast, grandpa }" 

" Why, too soon for you, you sleepy puss. I 
shall breakfast by myself before you are up, or else 
I shall breakfast down town. I have a huge cargo 
of wheat in from Chicago, and I must arrange to 
have it shipped for Liverpool. There is one thing 
that remains to me from the old time, and that is 
some of the hard work of my youth ; but even that 
seems a little harder than it used to. So, come 
now ; to bed ! to bed ! " 

While he was undressing, and long after he had 
crept beneath the blankets, Ephraim's thoughts 
wandered back and back through the spent years ; 
and, as the happiness he had known came freshly 
and strongly into his mind, he felt drawn more and 
more towards it ; until the new and old mingled 
together in strange but placid confusion in his 
brain, and he fell asleep. 


When he awoke it was still dark, for the winter 
was just begun; but he heard — or did he only 
dream that he heard ? — a clock in some neighbor- 
ing steeple strike six. He knew that he must get 
up, for his business upon that day demanded early 

He sat up in bed, yawned, stretched his arms 
once or twice, and then, flinging the covering aside, 
he leaped to the floor. He fell, and hurt his arm 
somewhat. Strange that he should have miscalcu- 
lated the distance ! The bed seemed more than 
twice as high from the floor as it should be. It 
was too dark to see distinctly, so . he crept to the 
bed with extended hands, and felt it. Yes, it was 
at least four feet from the floor, and, very oddly, it 
had long, slim posts, such as bedsteads used to 
have, instead of the low, carved footboard, and the 
high, postless "headboard, which belonged to the 
bedstead upon which he had slept in recent years. 
Ephraim resolved to strike a light. He groped his 
way to the table, and tried to find the match-box. 
It was not there ; he could not discover it upon the 
bureau either. But he found something else, which 
he did not recognize at first, but which a more 
careful examination with his fingers told him was a 
■ flint and steel. He was vexed that any one should 
play such a trick upon him. How could he ever 
succeed in lighting the gas with a flint and steel! 

But he resolved to try, and he moved over 


towards the gas-bracket by the bureau. It was not 
there ! He passed his cold hand over a square 
yard of the wall, where the bracket used to be, but 
it had vanished. It actually seemed, too, as if 
there was no paper on the wall, for the whitewash 
scaled off beneath his fingers. 

Perplexed and angry, Ephraim was about to re- 
place the flint and steel upon the bureau, and to 
dress in the dark, when his hand encountered a 
candlestick. It contained a candle. He deter- 
mined to try to light it. He struck the flint upon 
the steel at least a dozen times, in the way he re- 
membered doing so often when he was a boy, but 
the sparks refused to catch the tinder. He struck 
again and again, until he became really warm with 
effort and indignation, and at last he succeeded. 

It was only a poor, slim tallow candle, and 
Ephraim thought the light was not much better^ 
than the darkness, it was so dim and flickering and 
dismal. He was conscious then that the room was 
chill, although his body felt so warm ; and, for fear 
he should catch cold, he thought he would open the 
register, and let in some warm air. The register had 
disappeared ! There, right before him, was a vast 
old-fashioned fireplace filled with wood. By what 
means the transformation had been effected, he could 
not imagine. But he was not greatly displeased. 

" I always did like an open wood fire," he said, 
"and now I will have a roaring one." 


So he touched the flame of the candle to the 
light kindling-wood, and in a moment it was afire. 

" I will wash while it is burning up," said 

He went to the place where he thought he should 
find the fixed wash-stand, with hot and cold water 
running from the pipes, but he was amazed to find 
that it had followed the strange fashion of the room, 
and had gone also ! There was an old hand-basin, 
with a cracked china pitcher, standing upon a 
movable wash-stand, but the water in the pitcher 
had been turned to solid ice. 

With an exclamation of impatience and indig- 
nation, Ephraim placed the pitcher between the 
andirons, close to the wood in the chimney-place ; 
and he did so with smarting eyes, for the flue was 
cold, and volumes of smoke were pouring out into 
the room. In a few moments he felt that he should 
suffocate unless he could get some fresh air, so he 
resolved to open the upper sash of the window. 

When he got to the window he perceived that 
the panes of glass were only a few inches square, 
and that the woodwork inclosing them was thrice 
thicker and heavier than it had been. He strove 
to pull down the upper sash, but the effort was vain ; 
it would not move. He tried to lift the lower sash ; 
it went up with difficulty ; it seemed to weigh a 
hundred pounds ; and, when he got it up, it would 
not stay. He succeeded, finally, in keeping it open 
by placing a chair beneath it. 


When the ice in the pitcher was thawed, he 
finished his toilette, and then he descended the 
stairs. As nobody seemed to be moving in the 
house, he resolved to go out and get his breakfast 
at a restaurant. He unlocked the front door, and 
emerged into the street just as daylight fairly had 

As Ephraim descended the steps in front of his 
house, he had a distinct impression that something 
was wrong, and he was conscious of a feeling of 
irritation ; but it seemed to him that his mind, for 
some reason, did not operate with its accustomed 
precision ; and, while he realized the fact of a partial 
and very unexpected change of the conditions of 
his life, he found that when he tried, in a strangely 
feeble way, to grapple with the problem, the solution 
eluded him and baffled him. 

The force of habit, rather than a very clearly 
defined purpose, led him to walk to the corner of 
the street, just below his dwelling, and to pause 
there, as usual, to await the coming of the horse-car 
which should carry him down town. Following a 
custom, too, he took from his waistcoat pocket two 
or three pennies (which, to his surprise, had swollen 
to the uncomfortable dimensions of the old copper 
cents), and looked around for the news-boy from 
whom he bought, every morning, the daily paper. 

The lad, however, was not to be seen ; and 
Ephraim was somewhat vexed at his absence, be- 


cause he was especially anxious upon that morning 
to observe the quotations of the Chicago and 
Liverpool grain markets, and to ascertain what 
steamers were loading at the wharves. 

The horse-car was delayed much longer than he 
expected, and, while he waited, a man passed by, 
dressed oddly, Ephraim noticed, in knee-breeches 
and very old-fashioned coat and hat. Ephraim said 
to him, politely, — 

" Can you tell me, sir, where I can get a morning 
paper in this neighborhood ? The lad I buy from, 
commonly, is not at his post this morning." 

The stranger, stopping, looked at Ephraim with 
a queer expression, and presently said, — 

" I don't think I understand you ; a morning 
paper, did you say ? " 

" Yes, one of the morning papers ; the Argus or 
Commercial — any of them." 

" Why, my dear sir, there is but one newspaper 
published in this city. It is the Gazette. It comes 
out on Saturday, and this, you know, is only 

"Do you mean to say that we have no daily 
papers .''" exclaimed Ephraim, somewhat angrily, 

'^ Daily papers! Papers published every day! 
Why, sir, there is not such a newspaper in the 
world, and there never will be." 

" Pshaw ! " said Ephraim, turning his back upon 
the man in disgust. 


The stranger smiled, and, shaking his head as if 
he had serious doubts of Ephraim's sanity, passed 

" The man is cracked," said Ephraim, looking 
after him. " No daily papers ! The fellow has just 
come from the interior of Africa, or else he is an 
escaped lunatic. It is very queer that car does not 
come," and Ephraim glanced up the street anxiously. 
" There is not a car in sight. A fire somewhere, I 
suppose. Too bad that I should have lost so much 
time. I shall walk down," 

But, as Ephraim stepped into the highway, he 
was surprised to find that there were no rails there. 
The cobblestone pavement was unbroken. 

" Well, upon ray word ! This is the strangest 
thing of all. What on earth has become of the 
street-cars .-' I must go afoot, I suppose, if the dis- 
tance is great. I am afraid I shall be too late for 
business, as it is." 

As he walked onward at a rapid pace, and his 
eyes fell upon the buildings along the route, he was 
queerly sensible that the city had undergone a 
certain process of transformation. It had a familiar 
appearance, too. He seemed to know it in its 
present aspect, and yet not to know it. The way 
was perfectly familiar to him, and he recognized all 
the prominent landmarks easily, and still he had 
an indefinable feeling that some other city had 
stood where this did ; that he had known this very 


route under other conditions, and that the later 
conditions were those that had passed away, while 
those that he now saw belonged to a much earlier 

He felt, too, that the change, whatever it was, 
had brought a loss with it. The buildings that 
lined the street now he thought very ugly. They 
were old, misshapen, having pent-roofs with ab- 
surdly high gables, and the shop-windows were 
small, dingy, and set with small panes of glass. He 
had known it as a handsome street, edged with 
noble edifices, and offering to the gaze of the pe- 
destrian a succession of splendid windows filled with 
merchandise of the most brilliant description. 

But Ephraim pressed on with a determination to 
seek his favorite restaurant, for he began to feel 
very hungry. In a little while he reached the cor- 
ner where the restaurant should have been, but to 
his vexation he saw that the building there was a 
coffee-house of mean appearance, in front of which 
swung a blurred and faded sign. 

He resolved to enter, for he could get a break- 
fast here, at least. He pushed through the low 
doorway and over the sanded floor into a narrow 
sort of box, where a table was spread ; and, as he 
did so, he had a hazy feeling that this, too, was 
something that he was familiar with. 

" It must be," he said, " that my brain is pro- 
ducing a succession of those sensations that I have 

AN OLD FOGY. 23 1 

had sometimes before, which persuade the credu- 
lous that we move continually in a circle, and for- 
ever live our lives over again." 

As he took his seat a waiter approached him. 

" Give me a bill of fare," said Ephraim. 

" Bill of fare, sir ? Have no bill of fare, sir. Nev- 
er have them, sir ; no coffee-house has them, sir. 
Get you up a jiice breakfast though, sir." 

*' What have you got .-' " 

" Ham, sir ; steak, sir ; boiled egg, sir ; coffee, tea, 
muffins. Just in from furrin countries, sir, are you ? " 

" Never mind where I am from," said Ephraim, 
testily. " Bring me a broiled steak, and egg, and 
some muffins and coffee, and bring them quickly." 

" Yes, sir ; half a minute, sir. Anything else, sir ?" 

" Bring me a newspaper." 

*' Yes, sir ; here it is, sir, the very latest, sir." 

Ephraim took the paper, and glanced at it. It 
was the IVee^/y Gazette, four days old ; a little 
sheet of yellow-brown paper, poorly printed, con- 
taining some fragments of news, and nothing later 
from Europe than November 6, although the Ga- 
zette bore date December 19. So soon as Ephraim 
comprehended its worthlessness, he tossed it con- 
temptuously upon the floor, and waited, almost 
sullenly, for his breakfast. 

When it came in upon the tray, carried by the 
brisk waiter, it looked dainty and tempting enough, 
and the fumes that rose from it were so savory that 


he grew into better humor. As it was spread be- 
fore him, he perceived that the waiter had given 
him a very coarse, two-pronged steel fork. 

"Take that away," said Ephraimj tossing it to 
the end of the table ; " I want a silver fork." 

" Silver fork, sir ! Bless my soul, sir ! We haven't 
got any ; never heard of such a thing, sir." 

" Never heard of a silver fork, you idiot I " 
shouted Ephraim ; " why, everybody uses them." 

" No, sir ; I think not, sir. I've lived with first 
quality people, sir, and they all use this kind. Nev- 
er saw any other kind, sir ; didn't know there was 
any. Do they have 'em in furrin parts, sir ? " 

" Get out ! " said Ephraim, savagely. He was 
becoming somewhat annoyed and bewildered by the 
utter disappearance of so many familiar things. 

But the breakfast was good, and he was hungry, 
so he fell to with hearty zest, and, although he 
found the steel fork clumsy, it did him good ser- 
vice. At the conclusion of the meal, Ephraim 
walked rapidly to his office — the office that he had 
occupied for nearly sixty years. As he opened the 
door, he expected to find his letters in the box 
wherein the postman thrust them twice or thrice 
a day. They were not there. The box itself was 

" Too bad ! too bad ! " exclaimed Ephraim. " Ev- 
erything conspires to delay me to-day. I suppose 
I must sit here and wait for that lazy letter-carrier 


to come, and meantime my business must wait 

With the intent not to lose the time altogether, 
Ephraim resolved to write a letter or two. He took 
from the drawer a sheet of rough white paper, and 
opened his inkstand. He could not find his favor- 
ite steel pen anywhere, and there were no other 
pens in the drawer, only a bundle of quills. Eph- 
raim determined to try to use one of these. He 
ruined four, and lost ten minutes before he could 
make with his knife a pen good enough to write 
with ; but with this he finished his letter. Then he 
had another hunt for an envelope, but he could find 
one nowhere, and nothing was to be done but to fold 
the sheet in the fashion that he had known in his 
boyhood, and to seal it with sealing-wax. He 
burned his fingers badly while performing the last- 
named operation. 

Still the postman had not arrived, and Ephraim, 
being very anxious to mail his letter, resolved to go 
out and drop it into the letter-box at the corner of 
the street. When he reached the corner, he found 
that the letter-box had disappeared as so many 
other things had done ; so he resolved to push on 
to the post-office, where he could leave the letter 
and get his morning's mail. As he approached 
what he had supposed was the post-ofiftce, he was 
dismayed to perceive that another building oc- 
cupied the site. The post-oflSce had vanished. 


He turned to a man standing with a crowd which 
was observing him, and asked him where the post- 
office could be found. Obeying the direction, he 
sought the place and found it. Rushing to the 
single window, behind which a clerk stood, he 
asked, — 

" Are there any letters for Ephraim Batterby .-' " 

" I think not," said the clerk ; " there will be no 
mail in till to-morrow." 

" Till to-morrow ! " shouted Ephraim. " What is 
the matter ? " 

" The matter ! nothing at all. What's the mat- 
ter with you ? " 

" I am expecting letters from New York and 
Chicago. Are both mails delayed ? " 

"Chicago's a place I never heard of, and the 
mail from New York comes in only three times a 
week. It came yesterday, and it will come in 

" Three times a week ! " exclaimed Ephraim ; 
" why, it comes four or five times a day, unless I 
am very much mistaken." 

The clerk turned to a fellow-clerk behind him 
and said in a low tone something at which both 

" How do you suppose the mails get here four or 
five times a day ? " asked the clerk. 

" Upon the mail trains, of course," replied Eph- 
raim, tartly ; and then the clerks laughed again. 


"Well, sir," said the man at the window, "we 
don't appear to understand each other ; but it may 
straighten things out if I tell you that the New 
York mails come here upon a stage-coach, which 
takes twenty-four hours to make the journey, and 
which reaches here on Mondays, Wednesdays, and 

Ephraim was about to make an angry reply, but 
the clerk shut the window and made further dis- 
cussion impossible. For a moment Ephraim was 
puzzled. He stopped to think what he should do 
next, and while he was standing there, he noticed 
a curious crowd gathering about him, a crowd 
which seemed to regard him with peculiar interest. 
And now and then a rude fellow would make face- 
tious comments upon Ephraim's dress, at which 
some of the vulgar would laugh. Ephraim was 
somewhat bewildered, and his confusion became 
greater when he observed that all of the bystanders 
wore knee-breeches and very uglyhigh collars and 
cravats, in which their chins were completely bur- 
ied. Ephraim perceived near to him a gentleman 
who held in his hand a newspaper. Encouraged 
by his friendly countenance, Ephraim said to him, — 

" I am rather confused, sir, by some unexpected 
changes that I have found about here this morning, 
will you be good enough to give me a little in- 
formation .'' " 

" With pleasure, sir." 


" I have missed some important letters that I 
looked for from New York and the West. I wish 
to communicate with my correspondents at once. 
Will you please tell me where I can find the tele- 
graph office ? " 

" The telegraph office ! I don't understand you, 

" I wish to send messages to my friends at those 

" Well, sir, I know of no other way to send them 
than through the post-office here." 

" Do you mean to say that there is no telegraph 
line from here to New York } " 

" My dear sir, what do you mean by a telegraph 

"A telegraph line — a line of wire on which I 
can send messages by electricity." 

" I fear something is wrong with you, sir," said 
the gentleman gravely. "No such thing exists. 
No such thing can exist." 

" Nonsense ! " said Ephraim, waxing indignant. 
" How do you suppose the afternoon papers to-day 
will get the quotations of the Liverpool markets of 
to-day .'' How will the brokers learn to-day the 
price of securities at the meeting of the London 
Stock Exchange this morning ? " 

" You are speaking very wildly, sir," said the 
gentleman, stepping close to Ephraim and using a 
low tone, while the crowd laughed. " You must be 


more careful, or persons will regard you as in- 

" Insane ! Why ? Because I tell you, what every- 
body knows, that we get cable news from Europe 
every day." 

" Cable news ! cable news ! What does the old 
fool mean ? " shouted the crowd. 

" What do I mean ! " exclaimed Ephraim, in a 
passion ; " I mean that you are a pack of idiots for 
pretending to believe that there is no such thing as 
a telegraph, and no such thing as a telegraph cable 
to Europe." 

The crowd sent up a shout of derisive laughter 
and rushed at him as if to hustle him and use him 
roughly. The gentleman to whom he had spoken 
seized him by the arm and hurried him away. 
When they had turned the corner, the man stopped 
and said to Ephraim, — 

"You appear to be a sane man, although you 
speak so strangely. Let me warn you to be more 
careful in the future. If you should be taken up as 
a madman and consigned to a madhouse, you would 
endure terrible suffering, and find it very difficult 
to secure release." 

" I am perfectly sane," said Ephraim, " and I 
cannot comprehend why you think what I have said 
strange. I wanted my letters, and I wished in 
their absence to correspond by telegraph, because 
I am expecting a cargo of wheat to-day, which I 
am to ship to Liverpool by steamer." 


" By steamer ! There you go again. Nobody can 
know what you mean by ' steamer.' " 

" Steamer ! Steamship ! A ship that crosses the 
ocean by steam, without sails. You know what 
that is, certainly ? " 

" I have heard some talk about a rattle-trap in- 
vention which used steam to make a little boat 
paddle about on the river here ; but as for crossing 
the ocean — well, my dear sir, that is a little too 

"Ridiculous! Why — " 

" Pardon me," said the man, " I see you are in- 
corrigible ; I must bid you good morning ; " and he 
bowed politely and walked quickly away. 

" Well, well ! " said Ephraim, standing still and 
looking after him helplessly. " It's queer, very 
queer. I don't begin to understand it at all, I am 
half inclined to believe that the world has conspired 
to make game of me, or else that my poor wits 
really are astray. I don't feel as certain of them as 
a clear-headed man should." 

While he spoke, the bells of the city rang out an 
alarm of fire with furious clangor, and in a few 
moments he saw, dashing past him, an old-fashioned 
hand-engine, pulled by a score or two of men who 
held a rope. The burning building was not many 
hundred yards distant from Ephraim, and he felt an 
inclination to see it. When he reached the scene, 
men with leathern buckets were pouring water into 


the engine, while other men were forcing the 
handles up and down, with the result that a thin 
stream fell upon the mass of flame. 

He had an impulse to ask somebody why the 
steam fire-engines were not used, but every one 
seemed to be excited and busy, and he remembered 
what his friend had said to him about steamers. 

So he expressed his disgust for the stupidity of 
these people in a few muttered ejaculations ; and 
then, suddenly, bethought him of his business. 

He resolved to go down to the wharf where he 
had expected to ship his cargo, and to ascertain 
what the situation was there. 

As he came near to the place, he saw that it had 
changed since he last saw it, but a handsome ship 
lay in the dock, and men were carrying bags of 
grain aboard of her. 

" That must be my cargo," he said ; " but what 
on earth do they mean by loading it in that man- 
ner, and upon a sailing vessel ? " 

He approached the man who seemed to be su- 
perintending the work, and said, — 

" Is this Ephraim Batterby's wheat ? " 

The man looked at him in surprise for a moment, 
and then, smiling, said, — 

" No, sir ; it is Brown and Martin's." 

" When did it arrive ? " 

" Yesterday." 

" By rail ? " 


" By rail ! What do you mean by that ? " 

" I say, did it come by rail ? " 

"Well, old man, I haven't the least idea what 
you mean by ' rail,' but if you want to know, I'll 
tell you the grain came by canal-boat." 

" From Chicago ? " 

"Never heard of Chicago. The wheat came 
from Pittsburg, What are you asking for, any 
way ? " 

*' Why, I'm expecting some myself, by rail from 
Chicago, and I intend to ship it to Liverpool in a 
steamer — that is," added Ephraim, hesitatingly, 
"if I can find one." 

" Chicago ! rail ! steamer ! Old chap, I'm afraid 
you're a little weak in the top story. What do you 
mean by Chicago .' " 

" Chicago ! Why, it's a city three or four hun- 
dred miles west of Pittsburg ; a great centre for 
the western grain traffic. Certainly you must have 
heard of it." 

" Oh, come now, old man, you're trying to guy 
me ! I know well enough that the country is a 
howling wilderness, three hundred miles beyond 
Pittsburg. Grain market ! That's good ! " 

" I don't know," said Ephraim, somewhat feebly. 
" It used to be there. And I expected a cargo of 
wheat from Chicago to be here this morning, by 

" What kind of a railroad ? " 

AN OLD FOGY. 24 1 

"A railroad : iron rails, with cars propelled with 
steam ! I expected to find an elevator here to put 
the grain on board of an iron vessel ; to load the 
whole twenty thousand bushels to-day ; but things 
have gone wrong somehow, and I don't understand 
precisely why ! " 

" Bill," said the man, turning to a young fellow, 
one of his assistants, near him, " trot this poor old 
chap up to the mayor's office, so that he'll be taken 
care of. He's talking to me about bringing twenty 
thousand bushels of wheat on a rail, and loading it 
in an iron vessel — an iron vessel, mind you — in 
one day ! It's a shame for the old fellow's relations 
to let him wander about alone." 

Before " Bill " had a chance to offer his assist- 
ance, Ephraim, alarmed, and more than ever be- 
wildered, walked quickly away. 

As he gained the street, a man of about middle 
age suddenly stopped in front of him, and said, — 

" Good morning, Mr. Batterby." 

Ephraim had gotten into such a frame of mind, 
that he was almost startled at the sound of his 
own name. 

He looked hard at the stranger, but, although 
the features were son^ewhat famihar, he could not 
really recognize the man. 

" Don't know me, Batterby ? Impossible ! Don't 
know Tony Miller ! " 

" Bless my soul ! " exclaimed Ephraim ; *' Tony 



Miller ! so it is ! Tdny Miller ! Not Tony Miller ? 
Why — why — why, Miller, I thought you died 
thirty years ago ! " 

" Died ! ha, ha ! Not a bit of it, man. Why, 
it's absurd ! I saw you only two or three weeks 
since ! " 

" Strange, strange ! " said Ephraim, almost sadly, 
in his mind trying to recall some fragments of the 
past. " I could have sworn that you were dead I " 

" No, sir ; just as hearty and lively as I ever 
was. By the way, Mr. Batterby, what has become 
of Ephraim .-' I don't see him about any more." 

" Ephraim .'' Ephraim Batterby } Why, who do 
you think I am .'' " 

" Joshua Batterby, of course ; who else } You 
don't seem very well to-day, I think." 

" He mistakes me for my father," said Ephraim 
to himself. "When will all this wild, puzzling mys- 
tery end ? " Then, addressing Miller, he said, 
" I would like to have some conversation with you, 
Miller ; I am strangely confused and upset to-day." 

" Certainly ; be glad to have a chat with you. I 
say, suppose you come home and dine with me? I 
am on my way to dinner now. Will you go .'' " 

" Gladly," replied Ephraim. 
'• As they walked on. Miller, with intent to break 
the silence, said, — 

" I think we shall have rain to-day, Mr. Bat- 


" Perhaps ; it looks like it. • What does the sig- 
nal service say ? " 

" What does the what say ? " 

"The signal service. What are the indications ?" 

"I haven't the least idea what you mean, Mr. 

" Why," said Ephraim, timidly, " were you not 
aware that a bureau in the War Department collects 
information which enables it to indicate approach- 
ing conditions of the weather, and that it gives 
this information to the newspapers } " 

" Never heard of such a thing, Mr. Batterby, 
and I don't believe it. Somebody has been joking 
with you. The only weather indications we have are 
in the almanacs, and they are not at all reliable." 

The two walked along in silence for a time, and 
then Ephraim said, — 

" Miller ! " 


"I am going to ask you a good many queer 
questions to-day, for a private purpose of my own ; 
will you agree to answer them candidly ? " 

" If I can." 

"And not to think me insane, or absurd, or 
stupid ? " 

" Of course I should not think so." 

" Very well," said Ephraim ; " and when we are 
done, I may explain why I asked them, and per- 
haps you can solve a mystery for me." 


They reached the house and entered it. The 
first thing Miller did was to proceed to the side- 
board, fill two glasses with wine from a decanter, 
and ask Ephraim to drink. 

" Thank you," said Ephraim, " I never touch it." 

Miller looked at him for a moment in amaze- 
ment. He concluded that this must be one of the 
phases of Batterby's newly-developed queerness. 
So he emptied his own glass and put it down. 

They entered the parlor to wait for dinner. 
Ephraim's eye was caught by a very pretty minia- 
ture on the wall. 

" Who is that ? " he asked. 

" Mrs. Miller ; my wife." 

" Is it a photograph ? " 

" I don't know what a photograph is." 

" Ah ! " sighed Ephraim, " I remember. Let me 
ask you something else. Did you ever hear of a 
place named Chicago ? " 

" Never ! there is no such place." 

" You know nothing of railroads, or steamships, 
or telegraphs .' " 

" You are talking Greek to me." 

"Did you ever hear of a telegraph cable to 
Europe .'' " 

" Well, you are asking queer questions, sure 
enough. No, I never did." 

" Is there, or is there not, a railway line across 
the continent to the Pacific ? " 


" What a funny kind of an idea ! No, there 

" Are there any such things as daily papers .-* " 

" No, sir." 

" One question more : I see you have a wood 
fire. Do you never burn coal } " 

" Charcoal, sometimes, for some purposes," 

" I mean hard coal — stone coal ? " 

"There is no such thing in existence, so far as I 
know. What are you up to, anyhow .'' Going to 
invent something .-' " 

" I will tell you after awhile, may be," replied 
Ephraim ; and then to himself he said, " I am be- 
ginning to catch the meaning of all this experience. 
How strange it is ! " 

A lady entered from the front door, and passed 
the parlor. Ephraim saw that she had on a very 
narrow dress, with a high waist almost beneath 
her armpits, that she wore upon her head an enor- 
mous and hideous green " calash " which bore 
some resemblance to a gig-top. 

He had not seen one of those wonderful bits of 
head-gear for fifty years. 

In a few moments the lady entered the parlor. 
As Mr. Miller presented Batterby to his wife, 
Ephraim was shocked to perceive that she seemed 
to have on but a single, thin, white garment, and 
that even this appeared to be in immediate danger 
of slipping downward. He thought it shockingly 


immodest, but he remembered the figures of women 
he had seen in the remote past, and thought he 
knew what this meant. So he gave no indication 
of surprise. 

They went to the dining-room, Ephraim was 
very careful in conducting his share of the con- 
versation. Mrs. Miller, unlike her husband, had 
not been forewarned. However, once, when she 
was lamenting the absence of fruits and vegetables 
from the markets in winter, Ephraim incautiously 
asked her why she did not use canned goods ; and 
this opened the way to some vexatious questions. 
A little later, Miller began talking about the 
Warners, people whom Ephraim in his soul knew 
had been dead forty years ; and Miller had men- 
tioned that two of them were down with small- 
pox. Thereupon Ephraim asked if the malady 
was prevalent, and if Miller had been vaccinated. 
And thus again he got into trouble, for neither his 
host nor hostess knew his meaning. He was 
tripped up again by a reference to sewing- 
machines ; and, finally, by remarking, innocently, 
when Miller observed that it had just begun to 
rain, that he was sorry he had not his rubbers 
with him. 

But he would not try to explain his meaning 
when they pressed him. He had, indeed, an 
increasing tendency to taciturnity. He shrank 


more and more from the thought of attempting a 
discussion of the situation in which some wondrous 
mischance had placed him. As Miller waxed 
boisterous and lively in his talk, Ephraim was 
strongly impelled to complete reserve. 

For he had creeping over him, gradually, a 
horrible feeling that these people, in whose company 
he was lingering, were not real people ; that they 
were dead, and that by some awful jugglery they 
had been summoned forth and compelled to play 
over, before him, a travesty of their former lives. 

He became gloomy and wretched beneath the 
oppression of the thoughts that crowded his brain. 
As the hour slipped away, his distress was made 
more intense by the conduct of Miller, who, warmed 
with wine, mingled oaths with his conversation. 
Ephraim felt as if that blasphemy came to him 
clothed with a new horror from the region of mystery 
beyond the grave. Finally, after Mrs. Miller had 
left the room, her husband's utterance became thick 
and harsh, and presently he slipped, drunken and 
helpless, beneath the table. 

Ephraim sat alone at the board. The room grew 
darker, for the rain was now swirling without, 
against the window-panes. There was something 
ghastly and fearful in the appearance of the apart- 
ment. The outlines of the furniture, seen through 
the dusk, were distorted and misshapen. Ephraim 


felt as if he were in the presence of phantoms. He 
had the sensations of one who sits in a charnel- 
house, and knows that he is the only living thing 
among the dead. 

His good sense half revolted against the fear 
that overspread him ; but it seemed not strong 
enough to quell the tremulous terror in his soul ; 
for that grew and grew until it filled him with a 
kind of panic. He had such a meaningless dread 
as the bravest know when they find themselves 
amid darkness and loneliness in a dwelling wherein, 
of late, have been pleasant company and merriment 
and laughter ; wherein has been joyousness that has 
suddenly been quenched by utter, dismal silence. 

He was seized by a sudden impulse to fly. He 
pushed away his chair, and glanced timorously 
around him. Then he trod swiftly, and with a 
fiercely-beating heart, to the hall-way. Grasping 
his hat from the table, he opened the door, and 
fled out into the tempest. 

As he sped away through the gloomy street, now 
wet and slippery, and covered with pools of rain, it 
smote his heart with a new fear to think that even 
the city about him, with its high walls and im- 
pending roofs, its bricks and stones and uplifting 
spires, was unreal to ghastliness. But even his 
great dread did not forbid his mind to recall the 
mysteries of the day. 

" I know," he said, as he rushed onward, " what 


it all means. This is the Past. Some mighty hand 
has swept away the barrier of years, and plunged 
me once more into the midst of the life that I knew 
in my youth, long ago. And I have loved and 
worshipped that past. Blind and foolish man ! I 
loved it ! Ah, how I hate it now ! What a miser- 
able, miserable time it was ! How poor and 
insufficient life seems under its conditions ! How 
meanly men crawled about, content with their 
littleness and folly, and unconscious of the wisdom 
that lay within their reach, ignorant of the vast 
and wonderful possibilities that human ingenuity 
might compass ! " 

" There was nothing in that dreary past that I 
could love, excepting " — and Ephraim was almost 
ready to weep as he thought that the one longing 
of his soul could not be realized — " excepting 
those who were torn from my arms, my heart, my 
home, by the cruel hand of death." 

The excitement, the distress, the anguish, the 
wild terror of the day, came back to him with 
accumulated force as he hurried along the footway ; 
and when he reached his own home he was dis- 
tracted, unnerved, hysterical. 

With eager but uncertain fingers he pushed open 
the front door, and went into his sitting-room. 
There a fresh shock came to him, for he saw his 
wife in the chair she had occupied in the old time, 
long, long ago. She arose to greet him, and he 


saw that her dear face wore the kindly smile he had 
known so well, and that had added much to his 
sum of happiness in the years that were gone. He 
leaped to clasp her in his arms when he heard the 
sweet tones of her voice welcoming him ; his eyes 
filled with tears, and the sobs came, as he said, — 

" Ah, my dearest, my dearest ! have you, too, 
come up from the dead past to meet me? It was 
you alone that hallowed it to me. I loved — loved 
you — I — " 

He felt his utterance choked, the room swam 
before him, there was a ringing noise in his ears, 
he felt himself falling ; then he lost consciousness. 

He knew nothing more until he realized that 
there was a gentle knocking near to him, as of some 
one who demanded admittance at the door. He 
roused himself with an effort, and almost mechan- 
ically said, — 

" Come in." 

He heard a light step, and he opened his eyes. 
He was in his own bed-room, the room of the 
present, not of the past, and in his own bed. It 
was Nelly who knocked at the door ; she stood 
beside him. 

" It is time to get up, grandpa," she said. 

" Wh — where am I .■' What has happened ? 
Then, as his mind realized the truth, he said, " Oh, 
Nelly, Nelly, how I have suffered." 

" How, grandpa ? " 


"I — I — but never mind now, my dear; I will 
tell you after awhile. Run down-stairs while I pre- 
pare for breakfast. But, Nelly, let me tell you not 
to believe what I said to you about the glories of 
the past ; it was not true, my child, not true. I have 
learned better ; I talked to you like a foolish old 
man. Thank God, my dear, that you live late in 
the world's history. No man is more unwise or 
more ungrateful than he who finds delight in play- 
ing the part of An Old Fogy." 




i]T Gettysburg, on the afternoon of the 
third day of July, 1863, Major Henry G. 
Dunwoody, of the 483d Regiment of 
Pennsylvania Volunteers, while leading his men into 
action, was struck by a shell from a Confederate 
battery. A moment later he was lying upon the 
ground unconscious, and beside him lay his left leg, 
severed from his body several inches above the knee. 

When the fight was over for the day, the wounded 
Major was placed in an ambulance and taken to the 
hospital. A day or two later, the fever having left 
him, he lay in bed feeling tolerably comfortable. 
His mind not unnaturally turned to consideration 
of his wound. He began to think how very incon- 
venient it would be to have to hop about on one 
leg during the remainder of his life, and he couldn't 
help wondering where his leg was and what would 
be its fate. He suspected they would bury it ; and 
the notion seemed an unpleasant one. 

" I don't like the idea of being partially interred," 


he said ; " and while I am alive, too. I am too 
young a man by half a century to have one foot in 
the grave." 

The latter suggestion struck the Major as being 
rather a good joke. He resolved to remember it 
so that he could tell the surgeon. 

The Major could hardly persuade himself, at 
times, as he reflected, that he had really lost his 
leg. He had a corn upon a certain toe which he 
could distinctly feel ; there were strong sensations 
which indicated that the leg was still there, and he 
could hardly resist the impulse to try to lift it in 
such a vigorous manner as to kick off the covering 
of the bed. But he knew that this was absurd. 
While he was thinking about it he suddenly gave a 
little start, and a shiver ran through his nerves. 
He felt as if his leg had been plunged into some 
intensely cold liquid, and before he had quite re- 
covered from the shock he was conscious of a faint 
siiggestion of alcohol. Whether the perfume of the 
substance had actually greeted his nostrils, or the 
alcoholic flavor had been conveyed to his senses in 
some other way, he could not exactly define. He 
did not try very hard to solve the problem. This 
was only one of the many odd experiences of the 
first forty-eight hours, and he was too feeble to 
make such a vigorous mental effort as was neces- 
sary to their proper solution. 

The Major recovered, and was enrolled in the In- 


valid Corps. During the succeeding three or four 
years he drew his pay, lived an easy life, and de- 
voted much of his time to experimenting upon arti- 
ficial legs of various patterns. He never succeeded 
in finding one that suited him exactly, and in the 
course of time he collected quite a curious lot of 
wooden and cork legs, which he kept standing 
about in the corners of his room at his boarding- 
house in Washington, and which were perpetually 
a source of nervous dread to the chambermaid, who 
lived in expectation that some day they would fly 
out at her and kick her downstairs. 

One day the Major, while strolling along the 
street, passed the door of the Army Medical Mu- 
seum, an institution into which has been gathered 
by the government a very large number of medical 
and surgical curiosities taken from the various 
battle-fields of the rebellion. It is the most hor- 
ribly interesting place in the city of Washington 
— that is, to the ordinary lay observer. The sur- 
geons and doctors, of course, regard its trophies 
with gleeful enthusiasm. To others it serves per- 
haps a good purpose in suggesting some distinct 
notion of the fearful suffering which was the price 
paid for the salvation of the Government, and it 
may perform a useful oflfice in the future by indi- 
cating to persons who are burning with a desire 
for war and glory, that glory is one of the least 
obvious fruits of murderous strife. 


It occurred to the Major to enter the building ; 
and for half an hour he wandered about among the 
glass cases, studying curiously the strangely dis- 
torted fragments of the poor human body which 
are there preserved. As he turned the corner of 
one large case, he saw something that induced him 
to halt. A brief distance in front of him sat a 
woman intently engaged in drawing upon a piece of 
pasteboard which stood upon a small easel. It was 
so unexpected a sight that the Major could not re- 
sist the impulse to observe her for a moment. She 
seemed young and fair ; a mass of. bright golden 
hair fell upon her shoulders, and as she turned her 
head to look at something in one of the cases that 
she seemed to be sketching, the Major saw that her 
profile was exceedingly pretty. 

He came a step or two closer, and noticed by 
means of a hurried glance that she had a strange 
figure of some kind upon the board ; and then he 
passed on. 

Just as he got close to her his artificial leg — a 
leg that he had received a few days before by 
steamer from France — suddenly launched out 
sideways. It encountered the foot of the easel, 
and the next instant Major Dunwoody lay sprawl- 
ing upon the floor, with the easel across his 
back and the pasteboard picture lying upon his 
head. He recovered himself promptly, and turning 
to the fair artist, who stood above him with a look 


of mingled vexation and amusement upon her 
face, said, — 

"I — I — really I am very sorry. It is shocking, 
but I assure you I couldn't help it. I am suffering 
from a wound, and — and" (the Major did not Hke 
to confess so openly to his dismemberment); "and 
in fact I had not complete control of myself." 

The Major was a handsome man, and either his 
appearance, his pleading look, the pathetic tone of 
his voice, or all combined, touched the artist's heart 
with sympathy. 

" Oh, never mind," she said, smiling, as the Major 
thought, more sweetly than woman ever smiled be- 
fore. " No harm is done. I hope you didn't hurt 

" You are very kind. No, I am not hurt ; but I 
am greatly mortified at the trouble I have caused 
you, I hardly know how to express my disgust for 
my clumsiness." 

" Pray do not distress yourself about it," said the 
artist, laughing ; " the easel is not broken and the 
sketch is wholly uninjured. I should not have 
mourned if it had been destroyed. It is a mere 
study, and very incomplete." 

" You are too generous," replied the Major ; " but 
I will take good care not to disturb you again, if I 
can find my way out of here. Would you — would 
you — be — be — would you be good enough to call 
the janitor, or somebody, to help to get me upon 


my feet again ? I cannot rise without — in fact, 
my wound is — is — " 

" I shall be more than glad to assist you," said 
the artist, with a glance of pity in her blue eyes, 
" if you will take my hand." 

The Major looked at the hand for a moment. It 
was extremely pretty ; he had an impulse to kiss 
it, but he restrained himself. He merely clasped 
it in his own. The artist braced herself firmly, and 
the next instant the Major stood upright. 

" I do not know how I can thank you for your 
kindness," he said, " but permit me to offer you my 
card. I have some influence, and if I can ever 
serve you in any way I shall greatly rejoice." 

" Major Dunwoody ! Indeed ! " exclaimed the 
artist, as she read the name. " You are not one of 
the Dunwoodys of Clarion County, Pennsylvania, 
are you ? " 

"I was born there," replied the Major with not a 
little eagerness. He thought he saw a chance 
to acquire better acquaintance with this lovely 
and gifted woman. " Do you know any of our 
folks ? " 

" Oh, yes," said the artist, with a bright smile. 
" My mother came from Clarion County. She was 
a Hunsicker, a daughter of Hon. John Hunsicker, 
who represented the district in the forty-first Con- 
gress. I have often heard her speak of the Dun- 


" Indeed," replied the Major. " I knew your 
grandfather well when I was a boy." 

The conversation need not be given in detail. 
The artist and the Major developed at some length 
how a Hunsicker married a Dunwoody ; how a 
Dunwoody eloped with a Moyer, a cousin of the 
Hunsickers ; how a Dunwoody fought a duel with 
another Hunsicker over a political dispute, and 
shook hands afterwards ; and how the loves and 
hates, and bargains and enterprises, and contests 
and schemes of the Dunwoodys and Hunsickers 
had filled the history of Clarion County for a quar- 
ter of a century past. 

At last the Major said, — 

" But you haven't given me jyur name yet." 

" Pandora M'Duffy is my name. My mother, 
you know, married Senator M'Duffy, state senator. 
Poor father died many years ago, and we are now 
living in Washington." 

"Studying art, I presume .-'" asked the Major, 
glancing at the easel. 

" Yes," replied Pandora ; " I am an artist." 

"Is not this rather — rather a — a queer place 
to come to for sketches } " 

" Oh, no," said Pandora, laughing ; " I came 
here to study anatomy for a great picture I am 
going to paint. You see what that is .■* " said she, 
lifting the cardboard, and showing the sketch to 
the Major. 


" That is a — a — I should say that was a pic- 
ture of — well, of the elbow of a stove-pipe. 
Isn't it?" 

"You are not very complimentary," said Pan- 
dora. " I know it is very raw and unfinished; but 
it is at least a fair likeness of that human leg in 
the jar of alcohol over there." 

" Oh, of course ! So it is, so it is ; astonishing 
likeness ! How stupid I am ! To be sure. The 
very image of it." 

" Come now, I know you don't think so ! You 
are flattering me ! " 

*' No, indeed. It is wonderful ! But — why, 
bless my soul, what on earth do you want a picture 
of such a thing as that for .'' " 

" For my great painting," said Pandora, with a 
pretty little laugh. " I am preparing a picture, 
thirty-eight feet by twenty-seven feet, of George 
Washington cutting down his father's cherry-tree 
with his little hatchet." 

" What for .? " 

" I expect to sell it to the Government, and to 
have it placed among the other historical pictures 
in the rotunda of the Capitol." 

" But you are not going to put this leg in the 
picture .-' " 

" Yes ; I represent George as being barefooted, 
and having one trouser-leg rolled up." 

" But then, I don't exactly see how — well, but 
George was a boy, and this is a man's leg." 


" I know, but I am drawing all the figures on a 
heroic scale." 

" Ah ! " said the Major. Then he added, " But I 
must bid you good morning." 

" I shall be very glad to have you come to see 
me," said Pandora. 

" I assure you it will give me much pleasure to 
do so," answered the Major, with a feeling of ex- 

Then he bowed politely, and withdrew. 

When Pandora reached home, she showed Major 
Dunwoody's card to her mother, and told her of the 
adventure at the Museum. 

Mrs. M'Duffy sat upon the sofa and listened. 
She was a woman of distinguished appearance ; of 
large frame, not corpulent, but rounded rather more 
than positive beauty seemed to require. Having 
the carriage of a queen, with a finely-shaped head, 
a strongly-defined chin, held well up, an aquiline 
nose, and piercing black eyes, Mrs. M'Duffy im- 
pressed the observer with a sense of power. The 
mother of the Gracchi might have been such a 
woman. If Mrs. M'Duffy had been born to a 
throne, she would have left her impress distinctly 
upon the history of nations. 

Mrs. M'Duffy was familiar with the world. She 
was a woman who quickly comprehended possi- 
bilities. She clearly foresaw that Major Dun- 
woody might have an influence upon the future 


of Pandora, and the prospect was not pleasing 
to her. 

"Pandora," she said, "I trust you did not ask 
this man to call .'' " 

" Yes, I did, mother." 

" I am sorry to hear it. I never liked his branch 
of the Dunvvoodys. His father was mixed up 
with some very suspicious land speculations, and 
he died insolvent. Major Dunvvoody has nothing 
but his pay. You must treat him with coolness 
when he comes." 

" Why } " 

" Why ! Why, because it is very necessary that 
you should give him no encouragement of any 
kind. He is not a desirable match for you. Be- 
sides, you owe it to your family now to offer every 
opportunity to Achilles Smith. Mr. Smith wor- 
ships you ! " 

" And I hate him," said Pandora, vigorously. 

" Hate him, my child ? Why, how absurd ! 
Mr. Smith is a very charming man, and when he 
gets his Pottawatomie claim through Congress, he 
will be rich." 

" He will never get it through ; and I won't 
have him, if he does ! " 

" Never get it through. Pandora ! Didn't Gen- 
eral Belcher, the member for the ninety-sixth 
Kansas district, and his bosom friend, assure me 
positively that it would be approved during the 
present session ^ " 


" His claim is ridiculous. Congress will never 
allow it." 

" My dear ! Pray don't be absurd ! His claim 
is quite as reasonable as thousands of similar 
claims. The Pottawatomie Indians scalped him in 
1 862, and he very properly asks the legislature of 
his country to compel the savages to make repara- 
tion by surrendering two million acres of their 
reservation, I cannot see anything ridiculous 
about that. If he succeeds, he will be the largest 
individual land-owner in the West." 

"If he succeeds ! " 

" But General Belcher, who is pushing his case 
in Congress, and who is to share the property with 
him, positively declares that he will succeed. The 
General, also, makes your acceptance of Achilles 
the condition of his championship of your picture. 
He says that Congress shall buy that picture upon 
the day that you marry Achilles Smith ! " 

" General Belcher is simply disgusting, mother. 
I would never think of accepting a favor from 

" Not when his exertions can lift you and your 
mother out of poverty, Pandora .-* You talk most 

" I mean what I say," said Pandora firmly. 

"Very well, Miss, we shall see," replied Mrs. 
M'Duffy, rising and sweeping majestically from 
the room. 


Major Dunwoody called upon that very evening. 
He called again the next evening. He called fre- 
quently upon following evenings ; and although 
Mrs. M'Duffy treated him with coldness which 
bordered upon disdain, the Major's infatuation for 
Pandora was so strong that he forgot Mrs. M'Dufify's 
incivility in rejoicing over the exceeding gracious- 
ness of her daughter. 

The Major was convinced that Pandora loved 
him, but he hesitated to take practical measures 
to ascertain the fact, because he could not sum- 
mon up a sufficient amount of resolution to tell 
her the truth about the loss of his leg. He was 
far too honorable to deceive her respecting his 
misfortune until she had committed herself to 
him, and he was haunted by apprehension that she 
might reject him when she knew the actual state 
of the case. A catastrophe brought matters to 
a crisis. 

One Sunday evening the Major escorted Pan- 
dora to church. During the worship the Major felt 
his French leg give several very strange twitches, 
and he could hear a clicking sound in the knee as 
if some of the springs were loose and moving about 
in an independent manner. Pandora noticed the 
noise too, and leaned over to ask the Major, in a 
whisper, if there was not a mouse running about 
upon the floor of the pew. The Major said he did 
not think there was. 


Pandora whispered that it sounded rather more 
like, machinery. 

The Major faintly intimated that it might pro- 
ceed from the gas meter in the cellar, or perhaps 
the people in the gallery were fixing something 
about the organ. 

The Major had always rather doubted the springs 
in the knee-joint of the French leg. They im- 
pressed him as being far more complicated and in- 
genious than was necessary for simple purposes of 
locomotion. He was thinking about them tremu- 
lously when the sermon began. The preacher had 
hardly announced his text when the Major's leg 
suddenly flew up, kicked the bonnet upon the 
head of the lady in front of him over the wearer's 
eyes, and finally the leg fell upon the top of the 
back of the pew, where it kicked away vigorously. 
The Major, blushing crimson, grasped it and pulled 
it down by a severe effort. The wearer of the 
bonnet looked at him with indignation. Pandora 
seemed ready to faint. 

When the Major let go his hold of the leg it 
bounced up again, and performed the most eccen- 
tric movements upon the back of the pew. Pan- 
dora could not suppress a faint scream ; and the 
entire congregation- stared at the miserable Major 
as he seized the leg and thrust it down into the 
pew. He held it down firmly, but the springs 
were strong, and they forced the toes to beat a 


wild tattoo upon the wooden partition in front of 

In an agony of mortification, the Major rose, 
with the intention to leave the building. The sex- 
ton, who had approached him to ascertain the 
cause of the disturbance, gave him his arm, and 
the Major hopped down the aisle with his horrible 
leg flying out behind and before in a convulsive 
manner, kicking the sexton, banging pew-doors, 
and behaving generally in a most sensational and 
excitipg manner. 

Pandora followed her lover at a .short distance. 
When the porch of the church was reached, the 
leg was still in a condition of violent agitation, and 
the Major, wild with shame and rage, said to the 
sexton, — 

" Take it off! Unbuckle it ! Take it off quick ! " 

The sexton bravely approached, fumbled about 
for a moment in search of the strap, and an instant 
later the Major's imported leg lay upon the carpet 
squirming about, kicking viciously, and leaping 
hither and thither like a wounded and desperate 

" Call a carriage," gasped the Major, as he leaned 
against the wall. 

The sexton dispatched a boy for a vehicle, and 
when it came he placed the Major within, helped 
Pandora to a seat, and the party moved toward 


For a little while neither the Major nor Pandora 
spoke. The situation seemed too awful for words. 
The silence was becoming embarrassing, when sud- 
denly Pandora said, — 

" Poor man ! " 

" What, are you sorry for. me ? " asked the Major 

" Indeed I am. How you must have suffered ! " 

" I thought you would hate me for subjecting 
you to such mortification," 

" But you couldn't help it, I would be, very 
unjust to blame you." 

"And you do not dislike me because I am so 
crippled ? " 

" How could I .'' You are a soldier. You lost 
your leg honorably, did you not .'' " 

" It was shot away at Gettysburg." 

" You lost it to save my country, and you think 
I would not honor you for such a sacrifice ? " 

" Your kind words make me brave. If I might 
dare — " 

" Such a hero as you may dare anything," she 

" May I dare to ask if, while you honor me, you 
can also love me ? " 

" You may ; and if you do, I will answer ' Yes.' " 

" You are an angel ! " exclaimed the Major. 

They expressed their emotion in a very usual 
manner, which need not be described. When the 


carriage turned into the street upon which Pandora 
hved, she said, — • 

" Henry dear, — I may call you Henry, mayn't 
I ? — where is your leg ? " 

*' I left it squirming about in the church porch." 

" No ; I mean your real one, dear. The leg that 
was shot off." 

" I haven't the least idea. Buried, I suppose." 

Pandora was silent and thoughtful for a moment. 
Then she said, — 

"Isn't it barely possible that one of those legs 
preserved at the Medical Museum is yours ? " 

" Well, I declare I never thought of that ! Per- 
haps mine is there." 

" The one I was sketching on the day I first met 
you was labelled — 'Gettysburg, July 3rd, 1863.' 
Maybe that was it." 

" I will go around to-morrow and examine it. It 
would be very odd, Pandora dearest, if it should be 
mine. Wouldn't it .<* " 

" Very. But I want you to make me a promise. 
If it should be yours, will you get it and give it to 
me } " 

" If I can I will. But what on earth do you 
want it for } " 

" For two reasons I want it : first, because if I am 
to marry you I have a legal right to all of you ; and, 
second, because my George Washington has been 
standing upon one leg beside the cherry-tree for 


three weeks now, for the reason that I can't make 
a satisfactory study of his other leg." 

"Pandora, I will gratify you if human energy is 
equal to the task. The impulses of an undying 
affection, not less than a fervid regard for the 
interests of high art, shall nerve me to the work." 

" Thank you, darling ! " she said. 

Then. the carriage stopped at the M'Dufify front 
door. Pandora alighted, rang the bell, kissed her 
hand and disappeared, while the Major drove home 
in ecstasy to brood upon his unexpected happiness, 
and to fit himself with a Government leg that was 
numbered among the best in his collection. 

The next morning he went around to the Medical 
Museum and examined Exhibit 1307 in Case 25, 
being the leg which Pandora had proposed to pass 
on to immortality by attaching a representation of it 
to her picture of George Washington. 

The Major could not say with positiveness that 
the leg was his, but his impression that it belonged to 
him was strengthened by certain scars that seemed 
to be familiar, among them one which called up 
memories of a dog-bite obtained in a Clarion 
County orchard away back in the years of his 

A thought struck him. He called the janitor, 
and slipping a coin into his hand, he explained the 
case to that officer. At the Major's suggestion the 
janitor removed the specimen from the alcohol, 


and trod heavily upon the excrescence upon the 
toe. The Major yelled with pain. The identity of 
the limb was definitely ascertained. 

" I will recover possession of that leg," said the 
Major as he left the building, " if I have to buy the 
entire collection ! " 



ENERAL William Henry Harrison Belcher, 
member of Congress from the ninety- 
sixth Kansas district, sat in his room at 
his hotel one evening, with his feet upon the table, 
a cigar in his mouth, and a glass containing a 
mysterious liquid preparation beside him. 

In appearance the General was a man of mark. 
His thick gray hair covered a noble head ; his nose 
was large and curved in bold lines indicating 
strength ; his face was closely shaven and rather 
inclined to pallor. He had eyes that seemed to 
pierce the person upon whom they rested, and 
when he used his feet to stand upon, instead of 
devoting them to purely ornamental purposes, as 
at present, his figure appeared tall and slender and 
comely. Those who did not know the General 
imagined, when they saw him in the Capitol, that 
he was some distinguished statesman upon whom 
rested the weight of a nation's business. Those 
who knew him, on the contrary, were aware that he 
was a man of no education, no skill in higher 
politics, and no principles worth mentioning. He 


had begun life as a mule-driver on the plains, but 
one day he contrived to obtain a contract for 
supplying a certain Indian agency with cattle. The 
Government paid him for fat steers, and he furnished 
the oldest and leanest cows he could find west of 
the Mississippi, and when they were weighed in 
pairs, he and his drover stood on the scale each 
time so as to bring the aggregate weight up to a 
comfortable figure. He made a small fortune at 
this business, and then he bought his way into the 
Legislature, and subsequently into Congress, his 
purpose being not so much to give his suffering 
country the benefit of his skill as a legislator, as to 
open for himself larger opportunities to acquire 
wealth at his country's expense. He had succeeded 
in several enterprises of the kind which had engaged 
his attention since he came to Washington, and now 
he was devoting attention to his great scheme for 
seizing the Pottawatomie Reservation as a matter 
of retributive justice to its savage owners. As he 
sat in his room, thinking upon the subject, he heard 
a knock at the door. 

" Come in ! " said the General. 

Achilles Smith entered. 

" Hello, Kill ! " said the General, still keeping his 
feet upon the table, " Take a chair," 

Mr. Smith sat down. 

•* What'll you have .'' " asked the General. 

" Cocktail." 


"Mix one." 

Mr. Smith prepared the beverage, placed himself 
swiftly outside of it, elevated his feet until they 
rested close to those of the General, and said, — 

" Well, how does the old thing work ^ " 

" Oh, pretty well ! tolerable ! The Committee 
have promised to consider your case to-morrow, 
and I want you to be on hand, ready to tell your 
story. You've got it straight, I reckon ? " 

" Yes, I know it by heart." 

" Let's see. Your theory is that you were 
scalped by a Pottawatomie Indian in 1862. Now, 
where is that scalp .-• " 

" In -my trunk. Between ourselves, you know, 
I bought it of an Indian in Laramie year before 

"Very well. Now, what is the name of the 
Indian who scalped you .-* " 

" Jumping Antelope, a chief." 

" Under what circumstances ? " 

"I was trying to convert him by reading the 
Scriptures to him." 

" See here. Kill, isn't that a little thin ? He 
couldn't understand the language, you know. I'm 
afraid that won't wash." 

" I translated it as I went along." 

" S'pos'n' the Committee ask you to prove that 
you know the language .-* " • 

" I'll get off some gibberish, and you can as- 


sure them that you recognize it as pure Potta- 

" Very well. Now, what particular part of the 
— the — Scriptures were you reading to him?" 

"I dunno. Let's see; what are some of the 

" Don't ask me ; I'm not very well posted. We 
used to have a Bible out in the Kansas Legisla- 
ture, to swear members on, but they always kept a 
string tied around it, and after it was stolen a ru- 
mor got around that the clerk swore a whole House 
of Representatives in on Kidderminster's Digest 
of the State Laws." 

" Jonah 's the only book I recall very distinctly 

" That'll do, if you can remember something in 
it. I connect it indistinctly with reminiscences of 
a whale." 

"Yes. Well, I was trying to convert that In- 
dian by reading to him about Jonah and the whale, 
when he rose up suddenly and began fumbling 
about my hair with a carving-knife." 

" The Committee may go into detail. Now, 
why did he do this ? Is the narrative calculated 
in any way to excite the nervous system of an un- 
tutored child of the forest ? " 

" No-no-no ! " 

" Nothing in it about depriving persons of their 
hair ? Don't say Jonah was scalped, hey ? " 


" No." 

** Did your assailant accompany the act with any 
conversation ? " 

" He merely remarked ' How ! ' and I thought I 
caught some rather indistinct reference to the 
Happy Hunting Grounds ; but I'll only swear to 
' How.' " 

" * How ! ' They always say that. It indicates 
almost anything, from ferocious animosity to a 
desire to borrow plug tobacco. Then he took 
your hair, did he .-'" 

" Sawed it right out, and would have murdered 
me if I had not fled." 

"You dropped the Bible when you ran }" 

" Yes, after snatching my scalp from his hand." 

" Well, Kill, I think maybe that yarn'll pass. 
It's not first-rate, but there are three men in the 
Committee who want my vote for claims of theirs, 
and I have an idea they'll back us through thick 
and thin. My boy, don't call me a prophet if we 
don't snatch that Reservation before the session 's 
out. It looks to me like a sure thing." 

" I'd like to be as sure of something else I'm 
after," said Smith, rather sadly. 

" What's that ? " 

"The M'Duffy girl." 

"You shall have her, Kill, you shall have her. 
The old lady has promised me, positively." 

"I thought so myself at first, but there is an- 
other man in the way now." 


" Who is he ? " 

" Oh, a one-legged army man. She's taken a 
fancy to him, her mother tells me. He has a leg 
up here in the Medical Museum, and she fell in 
love with that first and it spread to the rest of him 
afterwards, gradually." 

" That's original, anyhow." 

" Wants to paint that preserved leg in her pic- 
ture. Going to dovetail it on to Washington. If 
he can get the leg out of the Museum she prom- 
ises to marry him." 

" Well, /'// put a stop to ///«/. I'll introduce a 
bill forfeiting to the Government for ever all the 
odd legs in the Museum. Kill, you mind what I 
tell you, and Pandora shall make j*??/ her model in- 
stead of this military ruin who is sparking her." 

" I'd like to feel certain of that." 

" You may ; depend on me. A man with my 
war record needn't fear to offer himself to any 
— what is this fellow.? Major, hey.? — Well, I'll 
risk offending any major in the service." 

" I didn't know you had any war record." 

" Ain't I a General .? " 

" Oh, I know, but you can't throw a brick in the 
street without mowing down a couple of Gener- 
als — peace men from principle." 

" But I have seen war, my boy ! I was in the 
army, only as a Captain, I admit. But I smelt 
powder. Kill, I was distinguished for one thing : 


Other officers always lost their men, but I never 
had a fight that I didn't bring out one-third more 
men than I took in." 

" You ought to have been promoted. Was it 
your war record that took you to Congress ? " 

" No, sir ; it was brains — pure intellect — that 
did that. You know my district .'' Not a railroad in 
it. Not enough, business to pay for the grease on 
the engines if there was a railroad. Of course, 
under such circumstances, the one thing all the 
people want worse than anything else is a railroad. 
People always want what they can't get." 

" Of course." 

" So as soon as I was nominated I hired four 
hundred men, divided them into squads, fitted 
them out with rods and chains and theodolites and 
other surveying apparatus, and started them all 
over the district, pretending to run lines. A squad 
would burst into a man's potato-patch and go to 
work. The owner would rush out and say, ' What 
in thunder you fellows a-doin' in that potato-patch .? ' 
And they'd say, ' We're surveying the route for 
old Belcher's railroad.' Then the man would fly 
into the house and tell his wife that Belcher was 
going to run a railroad through his property, and 
they'd go wild with joy. Kill, I carried that dis- 
trict by fifteen hundred majority over a man who 
under other circumstances would have beaten me 
out of my boots." 


"That was genius, sir ! nothing but pure genius." 

" I think so ; genius for statesmanship ; not such 
statesmanship as they have in the played-out des- 
potisms of Europe, but the kind that is needed in a 
new country." 

" I say, Belcher, how would it do for you and me 
to go around and call on old Mrs. M'Duffy .-' I've a 
notion to go." 

"I'm willing. Maybe we can settle the case of 
that dilapidated Major." 

Mrs. M'Duffy was at home when the General 
and Mr. Smith called, and she received them with 
much cordiality. 

The conversation naturally turned at an early 
moment to the subject of Smith's claim. 

" By the way, Mr. Smith," said Mrs. M'Duffy, 
" your claim rests, I think you said, upon the fact 
that you were scalped .'' Your head has not that ap- 

" Oh, no ! You see, madam, that in the lapse of 
years the wound has healed ; a new scalp has grad- 
ually formed, so that now I appear to be merely 
bald. I have the original scalp at home in my 

" How very interesting. Were you ever scalped, 
General ? " 

" No, ma'am, never. My custom has been to 
take scalps, not to lose them." 

" The General is an old Indian fighter," observed 


" I was not aware of the fact," said Mrs. M'Duffy. 
"You are familiar therefore with the plains. Did 
you ever visit the Pottawatomie Reservation — Mr. 
Smith's prospective property ? " 

" Frequently, ma'am. It's the handsomest tract 
of ground east of the Rocky Mountains." 

*' You propose to live on it, when you get it, do 
you not, Mr. Smith .' " , 

" On part of it. Half goes to the General ; then 
I shall reserve 5000 acres for myself and dispose of 
the remainder to settlers. If I am successful in 
my suit with your daughter I shall build a house in 
the centre of my 5000 acres, and we will live there. 
We shall have plenty of elbow-room. She" can 
paint pictures as big as all out-of-doors, and bigger," 

"Pandora is so fond of the open country," 

" Yes, madam, she can get half a dozen squaws 
to do her housework, so that she can have all her 
time to herself I am going to arrange it so that 
she can shoot grizzly bears from the parlor window, 
if she wants to; and as for wardrobe! — well, I 
intend to buy all our clothes in New York, and 
they'll be of a kind that'll cause every woman on 
the old Pottawatomie Reservation to turn green 
with envy." 

" Pandora ought to appreciate your kindness," 
said Mrs. M'Duffy; "but she is a strange girl, and, 
I fear, thinks more of her art than of the matters 
that commonly engage a young girl's attention." 


"By the way, ma'am, how is the great picture 
coming on ? " 

" Slowly. Pandora made the handle of the 
hatchet more than twice as thick as the tree, and 
she had to alter it. A connoisseur, a friend of hers, 
also pointed out to her that in fore-shortening 
Washington's right leg she had made his foot ap- 
pear to be resting upon a mountain upon the other 
side of the river. Corrections of this kind require 

" She must hurry up, ma'am ; she must hurry 
up," said the General ; " I have everything fixed to 
obtain the consent of Congress to its purchase by 
the Government. I am going to press the res- 
olution as soon as I hear that she has accepted 

"You are too kind. Do you think it is likely to 
be favorably received .-' Mrs. Easby told me yester- 
day that Judge Cudderbury said that if George 
Washington could have foreseen Pandora's picture 
he would have had incorporated into the Constitu- 
tion of the United States a section making it a fel- 
ony to represent him as within a thousand miles of 
a cherry-tree. But then the judge, you know, has 
a daughter who professes to be an artist." 

"Jealousy, ma'am! sheer jealousy. The judge 
knows no more about art, anyhow, than a Colorado 
mule knows about the sidereal system. Now, my 
opinion, Mrs. M'Duffy, is, that old Michael-what's- 


his-name, over there in Rome, couldn't hold a can- 
dle to your daughter in the matter of covering 

As the General was speaking, the door opened, 
and Pandora entered. She spoke politely, but 
coldly, to the visitors, and after the passage of a 
few remarks about the condition of the weather, the 
General withdrew, Mrs. M'Duffy followed him to 
the hall to bid him adieu, and Mr. Smith remained 
with Pandora. 

It occurred to Achilles that if Mrs. M'Duffy 
should happen to fail to return this would be an un- 
commonly good opportunity to speak of the state 
of his feelings. The thought pleased him, but it 
gave him some embarrassment. 

" Miss Pandora," he said, " I am glad to hear that 
you are succeeding so nicely with your picture." 

"Thank you; it is making some progress. I 
have been delayed by a few trifling alterations." 

" Is the central figure completed yet .-' " 

" Not quite finished. I did not feel sure about 
the left leg, and I shall make some studies before I 
paint it in." 

" If you have any difficulty with that portion of 
the figure, why not omit it .-* Put in a bush, or a 
stone, or the trunk of a fallen tree, so as to hide 
the leg. Congress will accept it all the same." 

"Art scorns such devices. And, besides, it 
would be rather too ridiculous to represent Wash- 


ington standing astride of a log while he is cutting 
down a cherry-tree." 

" True ! true ! That did not occur to me. What 
you really want is a good model. I think I could 
recommend one." 

" I have one already, thank you." 

" Indeed ! A plaster of Paris one ? " 

" No ; a real one." 

" A real one ? " 

" The property of a friend of mine ; a gentleman." 

"On or off.?" 

" Off." 

" Humph ! That seems to me — a — a — rather a 
queer offering to a lady." 

" Do you think so ? " 

" I am a plain man, not used to flattering women, 
but if I wished to express my regard for a lady I 
would offer her my heart instead of my leg." 

" It would be dreadful if the lady happened not 
to want any portion of you, wouldn't it ? " 

" Yes ; but suppose I should offer her the Potta- 
watomie Reservation besides, do you think she 
would refuse .-* " 

" You had better undertake the investigation 
yourself. How can I know } " 

" I tvill undertake it now. I offer my heart to 
you ! I offer the Reservation also. I love you, Pan- 
dora. Oh, how I love you ! Will you be my wife ? " 

" Mr. Smith, it is impossible." 


" No, not impossible, Pandora. Not impossible. 
Do not say that ; it will kill me. Listen ! Have 
you ever dreamed of a home upon the wide and 
boundless prairie .'' A sweet little home, two 
stories and an attic, painted white with green 
shutters, where you can see eighteen miles in a 
straight line, where two hundred acres in potatoes 
lie beneath your very window, and where you can 
hunt the bounding buffalo and the prairie-hen 
without going off the estate ; and where copper- 
colored servant girls can be had for two dollars a 
month and found ? Have you ever dreamed of such 
a home .-* " 

" Never." 

" It is to it I would bear you as my bride. Come 
with me ! Be mine ! I cannot offer you the 
enervating luxuries of the depraved and decaying 
East, but together we can feast upon jerked beef 
and buffalo tongues ; together we can drink draughts 
from the Artesian well in the cellar ; together we 
will sit beneath the tree by the front door, the only 
one within twenty-seven miles, and together we can 
watch the dog chasing the jackass-rabbits across 
the sage brush. Be mine, and I will stock the 
pantry with rations from the nearest Indian agency, 
where I have a friend ; I will buy you a suave and 
gentle mule for you to exercise yourself on, and you 
may have canvas enough to paint General Wash- 
ingtons and Lord Cornwallises as high as church 


steeples, and I will guarantee that Congress shall 
bid them in as fast as you turn them out. Will you, 
Pandora .-• Do you like the promise ? Oh, say that 
you love me ! " 

" Mr. Smith, I cannot. I am very sorry, but to 
tell the truth plainly, I am engaged to another 

"To Dun woody .-*" 

" I did not mention his name, sir." 

" But I know him ! A one-legged Major ! And 
you refuse me for him .-• " 

" I refuse you ; that is enough." 

"Oh, very well. Miss M'Duffy. I understand 
you. I will bid you a very good evening. I hope 
you will not have occasion to regret your decision." 

" Certainly I shall not ! Good evening, sir ! " 

As Achilles passed out through the hall he 
encountered Major Dunwoody, who was just placing 
his hat upon the rack. Achilles looked back at him 
for a second, scowling with rage and mortification, 
and then as he rushed into the open air, he said to 
himself, — 

" Never mind, you hopping, mud-headed, military 
humbug. I'll settle your case before you're many 
days older." 

And then Mr. Smith went home to bed. 

Pandora greeted the Major with a joyful smile. 

" Darling," said the Major, " who was that person 
I passed in the hall as I came in ? " 


" That was Achilles Smith, the man of whom I 
told you. He proposed to me a few moments before 
you came in." 

" He did, did he ? " exclaimed the Major savagely. 
" I wish I had known it. I would have kicked him 
down the steps." 

"But how could you, dearest, with only one 

"True!" said the Major. "But I could have 
thrashed him with my cane. So he wants to marry 
you, does he ? " 

" Yes, and mother thinks I ought to accept him." 

"And you have firmly made up your mind to 
marry me.''" asked the Major, fondly. 

" Yes, dear," said Pandora, with a roguish smile, 
" but only when you have succeeded in getting for 
me your disconnected leg. You will try to get it 
for me soon, Henry, won't you ? " 

" I am trying now, my sweet. Colonel Dabney, 
of the Maine delegation, has already introduced to 
the House of Representatives a bill appropriating 
my leg to me," 

" How splendid ! " 

"And he says it will pass promptly, so that I 
can obtain the leg within less than two months. 
We'll be married right off then, won't we .-* " 

"At once. But I'm afraid, Henry, Mr. Smith 
and General Belcher will oppose Colonel Dabney's 
bill if they hear of it." 


" I'll brain both of them if they do," said the 
Major. " No, I won't brain Smith ; he has no 
brains. And now, Pandora, darling, let us talk of 
something else. Are you sure, my dearest, that 
you love me very, very, very much ? " 

"Oh, Henry! ten thousand, thousand times more 
than I can ever tell you. I — " 

A person passing the parlor door at this juncture 
might have heard a sharp sound resembling some- 
what that made by the tearing of a piece of muslin. 
The conversation need not be quoted at greater 
length. It appeared to give the most intense 
pleasure to the Major and Pandora, but talk of that 
kind is usually rather dreary for outside parties ; so 
we will lower the curtain here. 



]BOUT a week later, Colonel Dabney re- 
ported, with a favorable recommendation 
to the House, from the Committee on Pub- 
lic Property, " An Act restoring a certain ampu- 
tated limb in the Medical Museum to Major Henry 
G. Dunwoody." The Act specified the leg con- 
tained in Exhibit 1307, Case 25, as the property to 
be restored. 

■ When the bill came up for discussion, General 
Belcher moved to lay it upon the table. Defeated. 
Then he moved to amend it with a provision that 
the bone of the leg should be withdrawn and 
retained in the Museum. Rejected. Then he 
offered a resolution referring the whole matter to a 
committee of inquiry, which should be directed to 
sit for two years, and to take testimony as to what 
had been the practice of governments in the mat- 
ter of surrendering legs blown off in battle, from 
the time of Sennacherib down to the battle of 
Sedan, including evidence respecting the custom 
in Persia, Greece, Egypt, Rome, Carthage, Pales- 
tine, and modem Europe. After a spirited debate 
the resolution was lost. But the General was not 


discouraged. He presented another resolution, 
that a special committee be directed to inquire 
whether the person mentioned in this bill was the 
same Major Dunwoody who, in a fit of alcoholic 
frenzy, in Clarion County, Pennsylvania, in 1866, 
treed his aged grandfather one rainy night, and 
compelled that venerable and rheumatic person to 
roost upon a lofty branch until morning. Voted 
down : Yeas 304 ; Nays i (General Belcher). 

The bill finally passed to a third reading, and 
was adopted. When it had received the approval 
of the Senate and the President, Major Dunwoody 
drove round to the Museum in high glee with Pan- 
dora. He carried in his pocket an empty pillow- 
case, in which he proposed to take home with him 
the long-lost fragment of himself. When he found 
the janitor and presented his credentials, that offi- 
cial was exceedingly polite, and at once led the 
way to the place where the treasure was kept. 

While he was unlocking the case. Pandora could 
hardly repress her feelings of joy. Leaning upon 
her lover's arm, and watching the janitor, she ex- 
claimed, — 

" Isn't it elegant, dear ? I can hardly realize 
that we are really going to get it ! Mother will 
be so glad when George Washington has his other 
leg on." 

" I wish I had mjf other one on," said the Major, 


" So do I. It's too bad ! But you can stand it 
up on the table and look at it now as much as you 
want to, can't you, darling ? " 

The janitor lifted down the huge jar containing 
the limb, and took it out of the spirits. 

"I feel," said the Major, as he unfolded his 
pillow-case, " as if I was in a cemetery, disinterring 
one of my near relations." 

" So beautiful ! Isn't it .'' " said Pandora. 

The Major suddenly scrutinized the leg closely. 

"Why, how — how's this .^ I don't exactly un- 
derstand — let's see, janitor, this is Exhibit 1307? 
Yes. Case 25 ? Yes, Case 25 ; so it is. Why, 
Thunder and Mars ! (excuse my agitation, Pan- 
dora,) there must be something wrong about 
this ! " 

" Wrong, Henry ? How ? " 

" Guess not, sir," said the janitor. " This is what 
the bill calls for." 

" But it can't be, you know. I lost my left leg, 
and this one you had in the jar here is a right leg. 
I couldn't have had two right legs, Pandora, of 
course ! " 

" I do not know, dear. Some persons have pe- 
culiarities of formation which — " 

" Oh, well, now, be reasonable. I am absolutely 
certain that my leg was a left leg in every partic- 
ular. You see. Pandora, this is a matter about 
which I may fairly be considered an authority." 


"Yes, Henry, but — but maybe being in the 
alcohol so long may have changed it." 

" Impossible. Quite impossible, Pandora. The 
annals of medical science, from Esculapius down, 
contain no record of such a thing. The leg is not 

" But you might as well take it, dearest, mightn't 
you, because my George Washington ought to be 
finished as quickly as possible ? " 

" You don't want to put two right legs on him, 
too, do you ? " 

" I don't know, Henry, I might. People won't 
look at his toes ; and if they did, they would regard 
the arrangement as one of the eccentricities of 
genius, perhaps." 

" Let us look about," said the Major. " Perhaps 
my leg is in one of these other cases. Why, here 
it is! Sure enough! In Case 1236, Exhibit 11. 
That is mine. You'll let me have it, Mr. Janitor, 
of course .-* " 

" Can't do it, sir ; I have to follow the Act of 
Congress carefully. I daren't go outside of it." 

"Well, this is too bad !" exclaimed the Major. 
" You positively won't give it to me .'' " 

" No, sir ; I won't." 

" Well, then, Pandora, there is nothing to do but 
to wait. I'll get Colonel Dabney to put another 
bill through at once. Let me get the numbers : 
Exhibit II, Case 1236." 


Then, taking Pandora upon his arm, the Major 
hobbled to his carriage and drove straight to the 

About three weeks later another bill passed the 
House without opposition, General Belcher being 
absent in New York upon a Committee of Inquiry. 
While the measure was pending in the Senate, 
Achilles Smith, one morning, at an early hour, en- 
tered a rear door of the Museum with a key which 
he had obtained by bribing the charwoman, and 
proceeding to Case 1236, he removed the leg from 
the jar No. 11, and put it in another jar in another 
case, replacing it with the leg that had been in the 
latter jar. 

He went down-stairs chuckling. " You mutilated 
outcast, you," he said, addressing the Major in 
imagination ; "we'll see who'll beat at this game !" 

When the Act had been signed by the President, 
the Major drove with Pandora to the Museum a 
second time. Upon reaching Case 1236 he was 
for a moment stricken dumb with amazement. 
Presently he said, — 

" Why, Pandora, my dear, do you see ^ It's the 
leg of a colored man ! " 

" Ye — e — es, it seems to be, Henry. But per- 
haps mortification or something has set in." 

" It is very mysterious. I can't account for it." 

" One of your legs was not colored, was it, ray 


" Oh, no, of course not ! " 

" Perhaps the janitor here has tarred it over, to 
preserve it better ? " 

" No, ma'am ; that's not allowed in this insti- 

" You'll take it anyhow ; won't you, Henry ? " 

" Oh, my dear, be reasonable. Take the leg of a 
negro for mine ! " 

" Well, but, Henry, I can paint it white in my 

" Yes ; but, Pandora, you know we won't care 
to have particles of fractured Africans scattered 
about our house. We can have no cherished mem- 
ories associated with a leg like this." 

" I suppose not ; but it seems rather hard that 
my Washington should have to stand upon that 
one leg at least a month longer." 

" He won't mind it. He was heroic. He would 
have stood upon a solitary leg for centuries rather 
than have robbed another man of his members." 

Pandora sighed deeply, and made up her mind 
to try to be resigned ; and so they went down- 
stairs, and drove away to state the case to Colonel 

The Colonel, after hearing the story, distinctly 
affirmed the opinion that there had been foul play. 
The Major jumped at the suggestion, and told him 
of General Belcher and Achilles Smith, and their 
designs respecting Pandora, 


" Never mind ; I will defeat their plans," said 
the Colonel. " You shall have the leg next time, 
if it is still in existence, no matter who meddles 
with it." 

The next Act reported by Colonel Dabney pro- 
vided that Major Henry G. Dunwoody should have 
authority to take possession of his leg wherever it 
conld be found, in any institution under control of 
the Government. 

General Belcher made a long and eloquent 
speech in opposition to the bill. 

He referred to the heroes of the past. Who 
ever heard of Epaminondas prowling about in 
search of a leg lost in honorable warfare ? Did 
Leonidas return from Thermopylae to seek the aid 
of the national legislature in an effort to recover 
members of his body that had been hacked off? 
Hannibal was fairly torn to pieces, but he would 
have scorned to go fishing in alcohol jars for them. 
Caesar, Alexander, Wallenstein, Wellington, Gen- 
eral Jackson, were all mighty warriors, but he had 
yet to learn that they ever stooped to begging 
their respective governments for mangled remains 
that had been preserved for the instruction of 
medical men and the alleviation of the sufferings 
of the human race. No, it was reserved for this 
obscure American militiaman, who was gravely 
suspected of fiendish barbarity to an aged and in- 
firm grandsire, and who had been charged with 


hiding behind a baggage-wagon at Gettysburg, to 
begin this ghoulish practice of grasping for legs 
that had been solemnly dedicated to the uses of 
our common country. 

He would direct attention to the remarkable and 
mysterious circumstances surrounding this case. 
It was admitted even by the friends of Major Dun- 
woody that he had one leg. Two other legs had 
been awarded him by separate Acts of Congress. 
That made three. He had in his hand a receipt 
for two artificial legs supplied to Major Dunwoody 
by the Government, making five ; and he was 
credibly informed that the Major had recently 
appeared at a church in the capital wearing a 
French leg, with which he performed some extra- 
ordinary, not to say scandalous, feats during the 
service. Thus there was positive evidence that 
this person had already in his possession six legs, 
and now he was demanding from Congress per- 
mission to take a seventh. He appealed to the 
House, was it reasonable that one man should be 
allowed to have seven legs ? Would it look well 
for this House to announce to the country that it 
was willing to rifle the Medical Museum in order 
to confer an additional leg upon a man who was 
the owner of six others } He could understand 
such legislation if men were constructed like centi- 
pedes, but it seemed to him more than monstrous, 
positively iniquitous, indeed, to vote away the pa- 


thetic and instructive remnants of our glorious 
heroes for the purpose of furthering the insidious, 
perhaps treasonable, designs of a man who had 
enough legs of various kinds already to make three 
ordinary men comfortable. 

When the General concluded his remarks, Colonel 
Dabney replied, and stated th6 facts of the case 
plainly and forcibly. The bill was passed by a 
handsome majority. 



PON the very same day, General Belcher's 
Act indemnifying Achilles Smith for the 
loss of his scalp by removing the Pot- 
tawatomie Indians from their reservation, was 
squeezed through the House by a majority of two 
votes. The bill provided for the immediate with- 
drawal of the Indians from their reservation in the 
Indian Territory, and the location of the tribe 
upon another reservation in Colorado, in a part of 
the country which is absolutely a desert, without 
water or shrubbery, and wholly unfit for the resi- 
dence of any animal of a higher grade than a rat- 

By some means the information of the action of 
the House was conveyed to the Pottawatomie chiefs, 
and they expressed to their agent their disgust in 
very strong language. The agent was scared, and 
he sent to Fort Gibson for a company of cavalry to 
protect him. The commander could spare Ijut ten 
men. When the Indians discovered the approach 
of the soldiers they imagined that a force was com- 
ing to drive them from their homes, and accord- 


ingly they attacked the squad, killed all but one 
man, and then the entire tribe went upon the 

The Government took instant action. The In- 
dians numbered about one thousand warriors. The 
force sent to crush them included not more than 
two hundred cavalrymen. The Indians were 
mounted upon fleet and hardy ponies, which could 
endure an incredible amount of fatigue and live 
upon grass. The cavalrymen bestrode horses which 
had performed service in New York omnibuses 
and upon St. Louis horse-cars, and which could 
hardly be driven faster than six miles an hour under 
stress. The Indians were armed with telescope 
rifles, breech-loading, and warranted to kill at 
three-quarters of a mile. These had been fur- 
nished gratuitously in time of peace by a benefi- 
cent Government. The soldiers were armed with 
short-range carbines, and with sabres which were 
about as useful in fighting savages who never came 
within gun-shot as a fishing-rod would have been. 
The Indians carried upon their ponies what food 
they wanted. The military force was encumbered 
by ambulances and several wagons carrying camp 
equipage. In a fight at close quarters the soldiers 
could have beaten their adversaries easily. In a 
race, which permitted no other fighting than occa- 
sional skirmishing, all the chances were on the 
side of the Indians ; and a race was what the com- 
batants were in for. 


Just before the expedition was ready to start, 
General Belcher, by bringing some influence indi- 
rectly to bear, succeeded in having Major Dun- 
woody detailed to accompany it in command of the 
Commissary Department. The Major was wild with 
vexation and disgust. 

" Pandora, darling," he said, " you know that I 
was to get my leg to-morrow, and that we were to 
be married within the month .'' " 

" Well ! Won't we .-• Is anything wrong ? " 

" Wrong ! Why, my dear, I have just received 
from the War Department orders to accompany 
the expedition against the Pottawatomies. I start 
to-morrow for Fort Gibson." 

" How can you ride, with only one leg .'' " 

" I am to command the Commissary Depart- 
ment. I shall have to ride in an ambulance. This 
is the fault of that accursed Smith. Why didn't 
he and Belcher let the Indians alone .■' " 

"And we can't be married, then, until you 
return .-' " 

" I don't see how. Isn't it outrageous .■* I have 
the worst luck of any man in the army." 

Pandora looked as if she were going to cry. 

" And your leg .'' Won't you get that until you 
come back .? " 

" Yes, dear, I will take it out of the Museum 
this evening, and you can amuse yourself throwing 
it upon the canvas while I am gone." 


" Oh, that will be so nice ! " 

" So nice that I am gone ? " 

" Oh, Henry ! How could you think I meant 
that ? " 

" I didn't ; I was only jesting. And you will 
think of me sometimes ?" 

" Yes, oh yes ; every moment of the day." 

" And you love me very much ? " 

" Indeed, indeed, I do ! " 

"My darling!" 

" My dearest ! " 

Probably the curtain might as well drop again at 
this point. 

The expedition started from Fort Gibson. It 
marched straight across the Indian territory to 
the Pottawatomie Reservation. The savages had 
moved off, about a day's march ahead of the sol- 
diers, toward the northwest. The military pressed 
forward ; the Indians kept always just a little in ad- 
vance. The two forces crossed into Kansas. The 
troops pressed their omnibus horses a little harder, 
and came within sight of the Indian rear-guard. 
Then the savages spurred up and increased the in- 
terval between them and the pursuers. 

The Pottawatomies headed for Colorado, and 
crossed the line in a few days, with the soldiers the 
usual distance behind. Just after passing the Col- 
orado border, the Colonel commanding resolved to 
steal a march upon the foe. One night, instead of 


going into camp, he pressed on until twelve o'clock, 
and then halted upon the bank of the Arkansas 

Four omnibus horses succumbed under the 
strain, and ere morning dawned some Pottawato- 
mies crept into the camp and stole six mules. 

The most degraded Indian was never known to 
steal a New York omnibus horse, even in the dark. 

The next day the four dismounted troopers were 
placed in an ambulance, and the pursuit began 
again. The Indians fled up through Colorado into 
Wyoming Territory, and the Colonel commanding 
pushed after them, going faster and faster every 
day. By the time he reached Fort Russel, just 
over the edge of the Wyoming line, the route of 
his march was marked with a succession of omni- 
bus and car horses in various stages of decay. At 
the Fort he obtained fresh horses, and sacrificing 
the baggage wagons, keeping only the ambulances, 
he pressed on. 

On the 27th of August his scouts discovered the 
Indians in camp in a valley a few miles ahead. 
The Colonel resolved upon a surprise. When 
everything was arranged the troops charged down 
upon the village with a wild hurrah. Not an Indian 
could be seen. The soldiers, however, burned the 
lodges and withdrew. Upon their return they 
found that in their absence the Indians had stam- 
peded their mules and all their ambulances but 


one, which Major Dunwoody had saved by hard 

The chase was resumed with greater heat than 
ever. So far there had not been a chance for any- 
thing like a fight. In fact, not a dozen savages had 
been seen. 

Within a week or two Wyoming was traversed 
and Montana Territory reached. There, just be- 
yond the Crow Indian Reservation, the first Potta- 
watomie of the campaign was slain. He sneaked 
into the camp one night, and while cutting loose 
one of Major Dunwoody's mules, the mule kicked 
him upon the head and killed him. 

On the 6th of October the soldiers had marched 
for thirty-six hours without rest, and it was believed 
that they would at last strike a telling blow upon 
the savages. Everything was ready for a fight, and 
the troops were full of eagerness for the fray. 
While they were halting for water upon a small 
creek, a friendly Gros Ventre Indian came in with 
the information that the fugitive Pottavvatomies had 
crossed the British line and were now safe from 
pursuit within the dominions of Her Majesty. 

The Colonel and his officers and men fairly tore 
the English language into shreds in their efforts to 
express with the necessary emphasis their appreci- 
ation of the facts of the situation. 

The " war " cost the Government a little less 
than a million and a half dollars, omnibus horses 


included ; and it was estimated by well-informed 
persons that the flying Indians, while upon the 
route, destroyed private property to the amount of 
half a million more, besides killing and scalping a 
party of eighteen emigrants which was passing 
through Wyoming. 

It seemed like rather a large price to pay for 
Mr. Achilles Smith's scalp. 

Some time during the month of September, 
while the chase was in progress, Achilles called at 
the house of Mrs. M'Duffy in Washington and 
asked for Pandora. He said, — 

" Miss M'Duffy, I come upon a somewhat pain- 
ful errand, but I have a duty devolving upon me, 
and I must perform it." 

" No bad news from Major Dun woody, I hope, 
Mr. Smith .? " 

" I am sorry to say there is." 

Pandora's eyes filled with tears. Her face be- 
came pale. 

" What is it ? " she asked. 

" I have here a dispatch to the Secretary of War, 
saying that in a fight with the Indians, on last 
Wednesday week, Major Dunwoody — " 

" Not killed ! Oh, please don't say he was slain ! 
I can't bear it." 

"No, not killed. Major Dunwoody has lost his 
other leg and his right arm." 

" How terrible I " screamed Pandora ; then she 
wept bitterly. 


*' Terrible, indeed ! " replied Smith in a sympa- 
thetic tone. " But you know this is the fortune of 
war. This it is to be a soldier." 

" Poor Henry ! How he must have suffered ! Do 
you know how he is .-' What are the chances of 
recovery ?" 

" The dispatch says he is doing very well. But 
of course he will be a mere wreck." 

" It is dreadful, too dreadful ! " 

" Perfectly helpless, too. A mere burden upon 
those who will have to take care of him." 

"Not if they love him!" 

" But surely you — you do not intend to cling to 
such a — a — such a disintegrated ruin as he ?" 

" I shall be true to him unto death." 

" I had hoped," said Achilles sadly, " that now 
that Dunwoody is reduced to about one half his 
original dimensions, I might hope to have you con- 
sider my claims." 

" Never ! It can never be ! " 

" Because I am about moving out on the Potta- 
watomie Reservation, and with you as my bride I 
could make it a little paradise here below. If you 
will take me, the Reservation is yours in fee-simple." 

*' I scorn the offer, sir ! " 

"You scorn it, do you ? Scorn the most splendid 
tract of land in the Mississippi Valley for the sake 
of marrying half of a man, whom you'll have to 
carry to church in a market basket and to feed 
with a spoon ! " 


" Yes, sir. I scorn it and you. For to you and 
your wicked schemes against the unoffending 
Indians, this awful, this dreadful suifering of Major 
Dunwoody is due. I hate you ! Yes, I hate you ! 
Leave the house this instant, sir ! " 

Smith withdrew, and as he closed the door 
Pandora fell upon the sofa and cried as if her poor 
little heart would break. 

Enter Mrs. M'Duffy. ^ 

" Pandora, my child, what is the matter ?" 
" Didn't that horrid Smith tell you ? " 
" What horrid Smith ? I don't know any such 
person. If you mean Mr. Achilles Smith, why, he 
didn't tell me anything. I have not seen him." 

" Poor Major Dunwoody has had his arm shot 

" What ! Not another limb lost ! Why, the man 
is falling apart in sections." 

"And that's not the worst of it." 
" Not the worst ? Why, my child, what do you 
mean } " 

" His other leg has been amputated." 
" Humph ! Well, that's agreeable news. No 
legs and only one arm. Pity they didn't amputate 
his head at once. I suppose, of course, you will 
break your engagement ? " 

" Oh, mother ! How can you be so unkind .-' " 
*' Pandora M'Duffy, you must be insane. Marry 
a man with only one limb. How is he going to 


waddle around ? Do you intend to carry him 
under your arm, in a bundle ? " 

" He will go on wheels, of course," said Pandora 
with brimming eyes. 

" On wheels ! A Hunsicker and a M'Duffy 
married to a man on wheels, and who has to slide 
on the banister when he wants to come down- 
stairs ! Why don't you accept Mr. Smith at once ? 
He is intact, I believe, with the exception of his 
scalp. This family seems to be haunted by men 
who are more or less in piecemeal." 

" I would rather die than marry Smith." 

" You might do it for your mother's sake, so as 
to be near to her." 

" Near to her ? What do you mean ? " 

"Why, I came in to tell you, my child, that I 
have accepted General Belcher's hand. I shall 
marry him, and we shall probably spend our 
summers at his prospective country seat upon the 
Pottawatomie Reservation." 

" General Belcher ! " exclaimed Pandora in dis- 
gust ; " I never thought, mother, it would come to 
^/lat ! " 

Then Pandora swept out of the room, with her 
handkerchief to her eyes, leaving the majestic Mrs. 
M'Duffy in a condition of some uncertainty as to 
her daughter's theory respecting the degree of 
humiliation which had been reached in her contract 
with the General. 


"But I know he is rich, and that he has a promise 
of an appointment as Minister to Peru, where he 
expects to speculate in bark," said Mrs. M'Duffy to 

The Secretary of the Interior Department at that 
period was an especially capable officer. He 
obtained by some means a clue to the secret of the 
movement against the Pottawatomie Reservation, 
and he followed it industriously by means of his 
agents. Late in the month of October he had 
probed the matter to the bottom, and he gave it to 
the newspapers. 

The entire conspiracy of General Belcher and 
Achilles Smith was exposed, and an indignant 
nation discovered that the costly struggle with the 
Pottawatomies had not even so slight a basis of 
justice on the part of the Government as a real 
injury done to Achilles Smith, It was ascertained 
that Smith had not been scalped at all. He had 
merely had his hair pulled at the Pottawatomie 
agency by a muscular squaw whom he was trying 
to cheat out of her fair allowance of rations. 

It became clear that a Congressional investi- 
gation would be ordered before the year was out, 
and Achilles Smith fled. General Belcher's conduct 
excited so much indignation at Kansas, that the 
politicians, following the popular lead, turned on 
him. He was arrested and tried upon a charge of 
bribery, and was committed. When on his way to 

3o6 MAJOR dunwoody's leg. 

prison he knocked down his custodian, took the 
first horse he came to, and started due South. It is 
supposed that he went to Mexico. The feeling in 
Kansas is that the unhappy land of the Montezumas 
has yet to experience her bitterest woes. It will 
be a charming country to emigrate from when 
General Belcher begins to feel at home. 

Early in November Major Dunwoody obtained 
release from his duties and came to Washington. 
He had not warned Pandora ; he wished to surprise 
her. When he called he withheld his name from 
the servant. Pandora entered the room slowly. 
When she saw her lover she gave a little scream 
of joy and flew towards him. Before reaching him 
a thought struck her. She paused and seemed 

" What's the matter, darling ? Aren't you glad 
to see me .■' " 

" Yes, but what — what — why — Henry dear, 
how is it you have your leg with you .-' " 

" I always keep it by me, sweet. It is so con- 
venient to have it along. You have the other one, 
you know." 

" But, Henry, you appear to have both arms, too." 

" I brought them to hug you with, you angel, 

She flew into them, and after a brief moment 
expended in exercising their lips. Pandora looked 
up into the Major's face and said, — 


"You know, dear, I heard that you had lost 
your other leg and one of your arms. I cried about 
it for a month," 

" Who gave you that information ? " 

** That scandalous story-teller, Achilles Smith." 

" Smith, hey ! Is he still around .-' That young 
man is actually suffering for somebody to macerate 

"And you're not hurt a bit, are you, deary ?" 

" I am a little dyspeptic from too regular dieting 
upon salt pork so tough that it creaked when I 
swallowed it ; but that's all." 

** Oh, Henry, you don't know how glad I am ! " 

More osculatory exercise at this juncture ; but we 
will not stop to consider it, satisfactory as it 
appeared to be. 

"And now, my love," said the Major, as they 
sat together on the sofa, the Major's right arm 
encircling Pandora's waist, "tell me about every- 

"Well, let me see. First of all — you know, 
mother ? " 

" Yes." 

" Well, she is going to marry Colonel Dabney." 

" You don't say so .<* " 

" Yes ; she was engaged to General Belcher, 

" Not old Belcher of Kansas ? " 

" Yes ; but he proved a rascal, so she discarded 

3o8 MAJOR dunwoody's leg. 

him, and now she is engaged to Colonel Dabney. 
Splendid, isn't it ? " 

" Perfectly splendid. By the way, have you 
copied my off leg yet ? " 

" Oh, yes ; long ago," 

" Then your picture is done ? " 

"Yes, Henry dear, but — " 

" What ! Isn't it satisfactory, after all ? " 

"It is to me, darling, but Colonel Dabney says 
Congress will never accept it." 

" Why not ? " 

" He seemed embarrassed when I asked him the 
reason, and he turned the subject." 

" Absolutely hopeless, is it ? " 

"Colonel Dabney says so." 

" What will you do with it ? " 

" I don't know, dear ; what do you think } " 

" Couldn't you alter it into something else ? " 

" I thought of that. It occurred to me that maybe 
I might turn it into the Execution of Mary Queen 
of Scots and get the Canadian Government to buy 

" Not a bad idea." 

" Paint in different clothes, you know, on Wash- 
ington, and fix up the tree somehow into Mary Queen 
of Scots. I think the hatchet will do as it is — do 
for the executioner's axe, you know." 

" I see. It's a good notion." 

"Mother said she thought I might make it a 


battle between a Crusader and a Saracen, but the 
tree is in the wrong position for a person supposed 
to be fighting." 

" Won't do at all, of course." 

" When General Belcher was here he said he 
believed that by painting the grass red so as to 
represent fire, and making a mast with rigging out 
of the tree, it might pass for the Boy who stood on 
the Burning Deck — Casablanca. But the Canadian 
Government would not care particularly about the 
Boy who stood on the Burning Deck, would they, 

" I have a dim idea that they wouldn't." 

" I think I'll stick to Mary Queen of Scots." 

" And now about our wedding ? " 

" I'm ready," 

" Name the day." 

" Will next Thursday do ? " 

" Admirable. So, next Thursday you will be my 
darling wife." 

" And you will be my sweet, splendid husband." 


" Henry ! " 

Another fall of the curtain appears to be neces- 
sary just here. We will ring it down. If it could 
have been raised again a glimpse might have been 
caught of a pretty room in which sat a lovely and 
smiling woman by the side of a table, sewing. Close 
to her sat a handsome young soldier, with one leg 


upon the floor. His other leg bobbed about in a 
huge jar that rested in a corner. Pandora M'Duffy 
had been transformed into Mrs. Major Henry G. 
Dunwoody, and she was happy. 

JINNIE. 311 



INNIE! Vir-r-rginia-a-a ! You 'Jin'! If 
you're not here in a minute, I'll whip you 
within an inch of your life ! " 

It was the shrill voice of Mrs. Tyke. Down 
from some mysterious part of the recesses of the 
house it came with the force and precision of a 
rifle-ball, through the narrow hall and open door to 
the ears of Jinnie, who was scrubbing the front 

Why Mrs. Tyke desired that the steps and the 
pavement should be scrubbed upon that cold and 
dismal December morning cannot be imagined. 
Probably she herself could not have given a reason 
for it if she had been asked. The bricks looked 
very clean and wholesome before the work began, 
and the marble steps were almost painfully white. 
Now, the pavement was covered with a film of ice 
upon which pedestrians slipped and were provoked 
to anger, and the steps were positively so icy as to 
be unfit for use. 

312 JINNIE. 

The voice of Mrs. Tyke gave fresh impetus to 
the arm of the child, who was just giving a few fin- 
ishing wipes to the uppermost step. She was a 
little child, surely not more than eight years of age. 
As she knelt upon the marble, rather painful prom- 
inence was given to a pair of shoes which might 
once have been the property of Mrs. Tyke herself, 
but which were now worn, as forlorn and riddled 
wrecks, upon feet which were stockingless. The 
thin little legs above the leather ruins were blue 
with cold, and the tiny arms which wielded the 
wiping-cloth with accelerated speed were bare and 
chapped to redness. 

If it was an offence to cover a pavement with ice 
upon such a morning, it was a bitter wrong to 
compel a little child so poorly clad to perform the 

Before Jinnie had replaced her cloth in her 
bucket, Mrs. Tyke appeared in the doorway with 
anger in her face. She took hold of one of the 
child's ears with her coarse fingers and pulled her 
into the hallway head foremost with as much force 
as if she had been shot out of a catapult. Then 
Mrs. Tyke, with a vigorous hand, boxed the ear 
that she had pulled, cuffed the other ear, impar- 
tially, knocking the child against the wall. 

" I'll teach you to mind me when I call you ! 
Pottering and fooling with your work ! Now you 
go right out into the yard and scrub those bricks 

JINNIE. 313 

in a jiffy, or you'll know how the broom-handle 

Mrs. Tyke was going to have the back-yard 
scrubbed also. Why Mrs. Tyke did not scrub the 
four walls of the house, and the roof, and the chim- 
ney flues and the fence, and why she did not scrub 
the cobble-stones in the street, is an impenetrable 

Jinnie picked up the bucket, and went stagger- 
ing through the hall, into the kitchen, with a feel- 
ing that her head might at any moment tumble off, 
as a result of Mrs. Tyke's blows, and roll upon the 
floor. She refilled her bucket at the hydrant, and 
began her work with a vigor that promised to make 
Mrs. Tyke's back-yard within a few moments a fit 
place for skaters. 

Just before the work was done, Mrs. Tyke ap- 
peared at the window with her bonnet on, and in a 
severe tone gave Jinnie some directions respecting 
the preparation of dinner during her absence. 
Then Mrs. Tyke withdrew, and just as the front 
door slammed Jinnie saw the head of a child ap- 
pear over the top of the partition fence, between 
the yards of Mrs. Tyke and Mrs. Brown. 

Young Miss Brown watched Jinnie putting away 
the scrubbing implements, and when Jinnie drew 
near to the fence with an apparent purpose to have 
some conversation, the little Brown said: 

" It'll pretty soon be Christmas, now." 

314 JINNIE. 

" Will it ? " said Jinnie, without manifesting any 
trace of interest in the fact. 

" Yes, and Kris Kingle is coming to our house. 
Mamma said so. Does Kris Kingle come to your 
house on Christmas ? " 

" Nobody ever comes to our house but the milk- 
man. He is not Kris Kingle, is he ? " 

" Oh, no ! Don't you hang up your stockings on 
Christmas eve } " 

" I have no stockings to hang up." 

"Where does Kris Kingle put all your pretty 
things, then ? " 

" He don't bring me any. Who is Kris Kingle ? " 

" Why, don't you know .-' He comes in a sleigh 
full of toys, pulled by reindeer, and — " 

** Where does he come from .<* Ohio ? " 

" I guess so. But he comes down the chimbley 
every night before Christmas, and — " 

" I expect our chimbley must be too little. Or 
maybe he don't know we live here." 

" Oh, he knows where everybody lives ; all the 
little children." 

" I'm so sorry he forgets me ! Maybe it's be- 
cause I have no stockings ! Oh, I wish, I wish 
I had!" 

"Won't Mrs. Tyke lend you one of hers ?" 

" I'm afraid to ask her. I wonder would Kris 
Kingle come if I put a bucket there for him ? " 

" I never heard of his giving toys in a bucket. 

JINNIE. 315 

If he gave you a large doll maybe he would. Have 
you got a large doll ? " 

" I never had any doll. I made one once out of 
a dust brush and some rags, but Mrs. Tyke whipped 
me and took it away. If I had a real doll I'd be so 
happy that I couldn't stand it." 

" If Mrs. Tyke whipped you for it that would 
keep you from being too happy, wouldn't it ? " 

" Yes." 

" Why didn't you ask your mamma to write to 
Kris Kingle to come ? " 

" I never had a mamma ; and no father, either. 
I was born in an asylum, and Mrs. Tyke always 
says it's a pity I was ever." 

" Maybe he'd come if you'd pray to get him," 

" I only know ' Now I lay me.' I learned it at 
the asylum ; but I daren't say it out loud any 

" I don't know what we can do about it, then." 

Jinnie began to cry ; but suddenly remember- 
ing the imminent probability of Mrs. Tyke's re- 
turn, she wiped her eyes with a rag of her dress, 
and said, — 

" Good-bye ; I must go in now. I have to get 

So she ran into the kitchen, and the head of the 
youthful Brown slowly descended until it was 
eclipsed by the fence. 

Jinnie went to work to prepare the vegetables 

3l6 JINNIE. 

for dinner, with her poor little brain in such a stir 
of excitement about Kris Kingle and the possibil- 
ity of his remembering her or forgetting her, that 
she could hardly keep her mind upon the task that 
her hands were doing ; but she was recalled from 
her dreams by the sound of Mrs. Tyke's step in 
the hall ; and as Mrs. Tyke perceived that she had 
not been very industrious, Mrs. Tyke promptly 
boxed her ears. She fell to the floor, and then 
Mrs. Tyke kicked her two or three times. This 
energetic treatment effectively dispelled all of Jin- 
nie's visions of Kris Kingle. She had rarely had 
any information upon which to build pleasant 
thoughts of what life might have been to her ; and 
now when her little mind was taking its first flight 
into those realms of imagination wherein so many 
of the forlorn of earth find at least a taste of hap- 
piness, the red and vigorous hand of Mrs. Tyke 
hurled her back once more into the dreary and 
dreadful reality of life. 

For the rest of the day Jinnie hurried through 
her myriad duties with a tremulous fear upon her 
that if she should dare even to think of that mys- 
terious being who loved the little children she 
might invoke still further blows. The blows came 
at any rate, more than once, despite her careful- 
ness ; but that was always a part of her experi- 
ence, and she bore them perhaps a little better 
now because she was looking forward with a faint 

JINNIE. 317 

suggestion of happiness to the night, when she 
should lie beneath the scant covering of her bed, 
and think without fear of harm of the reindeer and 
sleigh and the toys of the kind old man, who might 
perhaps not forget her this time. 

When supper-time came Mrs. Tyke ordered her 
to go to the baker's for bread. The shop to which 
she had been accustomed to go was closed, for 
some reason, and Jinnie sought another, upon 
another street. On her way home through the 
dusky thoroughfare she came suddenly upon a show- 
window brilliantly lighted, and filled with child- 
ish splendors belonging to the Christmas season. 

She had never seen so many beautiful things 
before. There were toys of all kinds, some of 
which she understood and some of which were all 
the more fascinating for the mystery that sur- 
rounded them. There were wagons and horses, 
and miniature tea-sets, and pop-guns, and baby 
houses, and jumping-jacks, and railroad cars, and 
tin steamboats, and make-believe soldier caps ; and 
these were mingled with clusters of glass balls of 
various colors, which glittered in the gaslight in a 
most wonderful manner. But the glory of the 
window was a huge waxen doll dressed as a bride, 
in pure white, with a veil and a wreath and the 
loveliest satin dress. She had real golden hair and 
the softest blue eyes, that stared and stared as 
though they were looking into some other surpris- 
ing show-window over the way. 

3l8 JINNIE. 

Jinnie trembled when she saw this marvellous 
doll. She had no idea that anybody ever wore 
such wonderful clothing as that. She had never 
dreamed that anything could be so beautiful. She 
thought she would be perfectly happy if she could 
stand there and gaze at it during the remainder of 
her life. Oh, if Kris Kingle Would come and 
leave her such a doll as that ! No, that could not 
be ; it was impossible that she should ever have 
such a joyful experience. But maybe he might 
bring her a doll like some of the smaller and less 
splendid ones which surrounded the bride in swarms. 
Yes, she would be satisfied with the very poorest 
one of them. She would hide it somewhere, under 
her bed covering, perhaps, where Mrs. Tyke could 
not see it, but where she could find it and kiss it 
and hug it and take it close in her arms when she 
went to sleep at night. 

The thought of Mrs. Tyke came to her like a 
blow in the midst of her delight. She remem- 
bered that she must hurry homeward, and so tak- 
ing a last, long look she turned and ran along the 
pavement, her heart filled with a wild, passionate 
longing that Kris Kingle would come to her and 
bring her something she could love. 

Of course Mrs. Tyke greeted her with angry 
words and two or three savage thumps. She ex- 
pected that. But Mrs. Tyke was not content with 
this. When she sat down to supper she told Jin- 

JINNIE. 319 

nie that as she had been unusually idle and bad 
that day she should go hungry to bed. Then 
Mrs. Tyke ate a particularly hearty meal, with the 
child watching her ; and when she had finished 
she sat by, growling and threatening, while Jinnie 
cleared away the tea-things preparatory to being 
marched off to bed, 

Jinnie missed her supper sadly, but she did not 
mind the hunger so much on that night, for her 
mind was busy with new delights. 

It was dark in her room, but she knew where 
the chimney was ; and before she undressed she 
went over and felt it. There was a hole there for 
a stove-pipe, but it had paper pasted over it. 

" Perhaps," said Jinnie, " Kris Kingle did not 
come because the hole was shut." 

He would not come down the chimney and out 
into the dining-room, she knew, because he would 
have to go through the stove ; and that would 
burn him, and his toys, too, perhaps. She thought 
it might be an inducement for him to come if she 
should punch a hole through the paper. She was 
afraid to tear it off, afraid of Mrs. Tyke's ven- 
geance ; so she pushed her finger through it. Then 
she undressed, and went hopefully to her bed upon 
the floor. 

But not to sleep ; she was too greatly excited. 
She began to wonder why it was that life was so 
terrible. She never imagined that her life differed 

320 JINNIE. 

from those of other children. It is the peculiar 
infamy of brutality to a child that the victim does 
not know how to sound the cry for the help that is 
almost always near to it. It accepts its lot as a 
thing of course ; it does not know that there are 
perhaps within a few short steps of its house of 
suffering hearts that would stir with wrath for its 
wrongs, and that there is within reach a law which 
would bring retribution upon the head of its op- 

Jinnie believed that all childhood was a time of 
punishment and misery. She saw other children 
playing in the street who seemed merry and joyous, 
and she could not understand why they were so. 
She remembered the Brown girl, also, and how she 
had heard her sometimes laughing and singing. 
Jinnie could not laugh and sing in her house with 
Mrs. Tyke near her. She thought the other 
children might be happy because they had dolls, 
and because they could have their stockings filled 
at Christmas time. She knew that grown-up people 
were not abused as she was, but it seemed such a 
long, long time to wait until she was grown up. 
She felt that when she was she would be kinder to 
children, and not strike them with the poker, at 
any rate, as Mrs. Tyke sometimes struck her. 

And if Kris Kingle should come down into her 
room through the hole in the paper, she thought 
she would like to be awake and to ask him to take 

JINNIE. 321 

her away with him in his sleigh somewhere. As 
she dwelt upon this she pictured herself going up 
the chimney and then flying over the roofs behind 
the reindeer, and looking back at Mrs. Tyke stand- 
ing at the window and cursing her. And so she 
fell asleep and into a tangled maze of dreams, 
wherein Kris Kingle, Mrs. Tyke and the doll-baby 
bride were mingled in great confus-ion. 

Jinnie's first thought in the morning was the last 
that she had upon the night before. But as she 
hurriedly dressed herself it flashed across her mind 
that as there was grave peril that Kris Kingle 
might not come to her, perhaps it would make 
matters surer if she should go to him. 

The milkman, whose cry she expected every 
moment, to her seemed a likely person to know 
where Kris lived, and to take her there. Young 
Miss Brown had rather indicated that Kris's home 
was in Ohio ; but whether Ohio was a little piece up 
the street or millions of miles away, or whether it 
was a house or a stable or a town, she did not know. 
The milkman had spoken pleasantly to her some- 
times, and he had a wagon. It was not as attractive 
as a sleigh with reindeer, but she had often longed 
to ride in it. She determined to speak to him. 
But when he came and she opened the door with a 
beating heart, he snatched the pitcher from her 
hand and frowned while he filled it. He was 
thinking of some offensive suggestions made by 

322 JINNIE. 

Mrs. Tyke upon the preceding evening in reference 
to his too intense partiality for water ; and he 
seemed so cross that Jinnie was afraid to speak to 

She came into the house again sorrowfully, but 
with a strong purpose to seek some other means of 
reaching Kris Kingle ; and she carried this deter- 
mination with her stubbornly through all the fa- 
tigues and hardships of the day. 

About four o'clock in the afternoon Mrs. Tyke 
went out. Jinnie felt that her time had come. She 
resolved to make an effort to find Kris Kingle, to 
tell him of her longing desire, and to return home 
again before Mrs. Tyke got back. She put her 
woollen hood upon her head, wrapped around her 
shoulders the thin and faded rag which Mrs. Tyke 
dignified with the name of a shawl ; and then she 
concluded to take a newspaper with her, so that if 
Kris Kingle showed any disposition to urge the 
doll-baby upon her in advance of Christmas, she 
could have something to wrap it in. 

When she came out of the house she crossed 
the street so that she could notice particularly 
whether there was anything in the construction of 
the roof of Mrs. Tyke's dwelling which would be 
likely to discourage Kris Kingle from attempting 
to reach the chimney. She saw that the roof was 
much lower than the roofs of the houses upon each 
side of it, and that it sloped at a sharp angle toward 

JINNIE, 323 

the front, while they were flat. The chimney, also, 
was certainly smaller than others in the vicinity, 
and the conclusion reached by the child's mind was 
that Kris Kingle had probably been indisposed to 
take the risks of running his sleigh upon so pre- 
cipitous a roof for the sake of descending such a 
very narrow chimney. 

This gave a fresh impulse to the child's purpose 
to visit Kris Kingle, so that she might plead with 
him to make a call at Mrs. Tyke's despite the 
inconveniences of the construction of the house. It 
occurred to her that she might possibly arrange for 
him to come to the front door and ring the bell, 
when she would come softly down stairs and open 
to receive him. 

While she thought of the matter she walked 
quickly up the street, now somewhat gloomy in the 
early dusk, but before she had gone far she reflected 
that she ought to inquire the way to Ohio before 
the darkness should come. She paused to speak 
to two or three men who were hurrying by, but 
evidently they thought she intended to ask alms 
of them, and so they would not pause to listen to 
her. She was discouraged ; but at last she saw a 
boy standing by a street lamp, doing nothing, and 
she resolved to ask him. 

He laughed rudely at her question and walked 
away. A moment later he turned and threw a 
snowball at her. It hit her in the face and hurt 

324 JINNIE. 

her badly ; and her foot slipping upon the icy pave- 
ment, she fell. A moment elapsed before she was 
able to rise ; but at last she got up, and although 
she was cold and weak and greatly discouraged, she 
thought she would press on. She might never 
have so good a chance again ; and if she did not 
see Kris Kingle now, Christmas would come, and 
he would come and go, and there would be no doll 
for her. 

While she was standing there, in a very miser- 
able frame of mind, a nicely dressed lady went past 
her. Presently the lady turned and looked at her ; 
then she came back to where Jinnie stood and 
spoke to her. 

" What is your name, my child .-* " asked the lady. 

" Virginia, ma'am. But Mrs. Tyke generally 
calls me Jinnie." She had never heard so sweet a 
voice. It seemed so beautiful, so gentle, so full of 
tender pity, that it thrilled her with a strange joy. 

" And where are you going ? " 

" I am going out to Ohio, to see Kris Kingle." 

The lady smiled ; but the smile faded into a look 
of deep compassion, and she said, — 

" Did your mother let you come away from 

" I have no mother. I'm a bound girl." 

" Who sent you to find Kris Kingle .-* " 

" Nobody. He always forgets to come to our 
house, so I was goin' to put him in mind." 

JINNIE. 325 

" Don't you get any toys or candy on Christmas ? " 

" No, ma'am. Mrs. Tyke won't give me any, 
and Kris Kingle forgets me. And I never tasted 
candy but once." 

" Is Mrs. Tyke the woman you live with ? " 

" Yes, ma'am." 

" Does she treat you kindly ^ " 

" Whips me and knocks me down sometimes." 

" Will you go back to her ? " 

" Oh yes, ma'am. I am going right back as soon 
as I see Kris Kingle." 

The lady took her hand and resolved to go back 
with her, and to see the terrible Mrs. Tyke. She 
told Jinnie so, and Jinnie submitted, although she 
was grieved to forego her errand. 

" Do you know who Kris Kingle really is ? " the 
lady asked. 

" Yes ; he brings nice things down the chimbley 
to children." 

" He does better things than that, my dear. The 
real Kris Kingle is the Christ-child." 

"Who is He.?" 

" Did you never hear anybody tell of Christ ? " 

"No, ma'am." 

" He is God. He came down here to live upon 
earth, where He suffered and died for us. He 
loved little children, for He was Himself once a 

"Was He Httle, like me.?" 

326 JINNIE. 


"How did He suffer?" 

" Wicked men insulted Him and beat Him and 
killed Him." 

" Did they beat Him and strike Him like they 
do me ? " 

" Yes, my poor child." 

" What makes Him love me .-• Because I am 
beaten just like He was .■' " 

" Yes, yes, that is it. But He loves everybody, 
good and bad." 

" He doesn't know Mrs. Tyke, does He .-' " 

" He knows everybody in the world." 

" Where is He now ? " 

" Up in Heaven ? " 

" Is that farther than Ohio ? " 

" Yes, that is far, far away in the skies." 

" Then how does He get here .-* I always 
thought the real Kris Kingle came down chim- 

" He comes in your heart, my dear child. You 
will understand it all some day." 

The lady seemed strangely moved as she said 
this to Jinnie ; but she said nothing, and led Jinnie 
through the street, towards the child's home. 

When Jinnie and her companion reached Mrs. 
Tyke's house and rang the bell, Mrs. Tyke herself 
came to the door and opened it. As soon as she 
saw Jinnie she poured out at her a volley of abu- 

JINNIE. 327 

sive words, without regarding the presence of the 
lady who accompanied her. The lady remon- 
strated with Mrs. Tyke, and then Mrs. Tyke as- 
sailed her with her tongue. The lady then told 
Mrs. Tyke that she knew of the cruel treatment to 
which the child had been subjected, and that she 
would interfere if it was repeated. 

Jinnie was astonished that any one should be so 
bold as to speak with so much severity to Mrs. 
Tyke. The response made to this threat by Mrs. 
Tyke was to seize Jinnie by the arm, to drag her 
suddenly into the hallway, and to slam the door in 
the lady's face. 

The lady stood upon the step and listened. She 
could hear Mrs. Tyke beating the child and curs- 
ing her; and then the sounds receded, as if Mrs. 
Tyke were dragging Jinnie into a room at the end 
of the hallway. Mrs. Tyke was in a paroxysm of 
fury ; and she intended to visit upon Jinnie the 
vengeance she would have liked to inflict upon 
Jinnie's unknown friend. 

Beating was too common and too tame a form 
of punishment. Mrs. Tyke's ingenuity devised a 
more terrible one. She made the child remove 
her shoes, and then she tied her upon a chair, with 
her naked feet within a few inches of the hot 
stove. In that position she left Jinnie, who bore 
the frightful pain bravely, until presently she 

328 JINNIE. 

If there is no hell, what is going to become of 
people like Mrs. Tyke ? 

When Jinnie regained consciousness, Mrs. Tyke 
sternly ordered her to go up to bed ; and Jinnie 
crawled up the staircase slowly and painfully upon 
her hands and knees, suffering so much that she 
could hardly help screaming aloud. 

She reached her room at last, and flung herself 
down upon the bed. Her pain was so great that it 
was a long while before she could go to sleep ; and 
she lay there thinking with all her might about 
Kris Kingle and the doll baby, and her adventures 
in the street, an'd wondering if she would ever be 
any happier. Then she remembered what little 
Miss Brown had said about praying, and what the 
sweet lady had told her about the Christ-child 
and His wondrous love ; and so she thought she 
would try to pray to Him ; and praying, she fell 

The lady who brought Jinnie home turned away 
with her soul filled with indignation at Mrs. Tyke's 
cruelty to the child, and she determined to have it 
ended. She knew a man, Thomas Elwood, who 
was active in the service of the Society for Pro- 
tecting Children from Cruelty, and she went to his 
house. He was a very plain Friend ; a young 
man, and of a fair countenance. He was at home 
with his wife, and both expressed deep interest in 
the visitor's story. The visitor left with the as- 

JINNIE. 329 

surance from Elwood that the case would receive 
attention early the next morning. 

Next morning, when Mrs. Tyke called Jinnie, 
Jinnie tried to rise, but found that she could not : 
she was too feeble and wretched. Mrs. Tyke saw 
this, and she did not compel Jinnie to get up. 
Mrs. Tyke was beginning to be frightened. So 
Jinnie fell asleep again, and when she awoke it was 
broad daylight, and a man with what seemed to be 
an angelic face was standing beside her. It was 
Thomas Elwood. Jinnie was startled ; her first 
impression was that this was Kris Kingle, come in 
answer to her prayer. But when Jinnie looked at 
the finger-hole she had made in the fire-board and 
at the man, and particularly at the circumference 
of his hat, it seemed to her impossible, if this was 
Kris Kingle, that he should have come in by way 
of Mrs. Tyke's chimney. 

Thomas Elwood spoke to her and asked her if 
she suffered much. She said yes, and then she 
asked him if he really was Kris Kingle. 

Thomas smiled and said, — 

" No, dear child ; but I am thy friend, and I am 
going to take thee away from this misery and keep 
thee until thee is well again." 

Then he lifted Jinnie in his arms, bore her down- 
stairs and out, and placed her in a carriage. 

" Where is Mrs. Tyke. -•" thought Jinnie. Mrs. 
Tyke was at a magistrate's office, listening to Mrs. 

330 JINNIE. 

Brown and others of the neighbors while they tes- 
tified of her brutal treatment of Jinnie. The lady 
who had brought Jinnie home was there also ; and 
Jinnie was kindly pressed by the magistrate to tell 
what Mrs. Tyke had done to her. 

Mrs. Tyke gave bail and went home. Thomas 
Elwood took Jinnie to his own house, and his wife 
wept as he told her how the child had been tor- 
tured. She carried Jinnie upstairs and washed 
her, and dressed her in clothes that Jinnie thought 
were wonderful, though they were so plain. Then 
she kissed Jinnie and said to her, — 

" I once had a little girl of thy age ; but a year 
ago she died. She even looked like thee, my dear." 

Jinnie was so weak that she had to lie upon the 
bed when the washing and dressing were over ; 
" and such a bed ! " thought Jinnie. Thomas El- 
wood's wife brought some breakfast up to her, and 
Jinnie thought that she had never tasted anything 
so good. She did not know that such delicious 
food could be found anywhere in the world. 

Jinnie grew better and stronger in a few days, 
and Thomas Elwood and his wife became so much 
attached to her that they resolved that they would 
keep her and adopt her in the place of the child 
that had been taken away from them. 

Jinnie was very happy, and she talked freely with 
them. She told them about her search for Kris 
Kingle, and about that splendid doll she saw in the 

JINNIE. 331 

window on the night she went to the strange 

Although entertaining sentiments which forbade 
any enthusiasm for Christmas and Kris Kingle, 
and dolls in gorgeous apparel, something im- 
pelled Thomas Elwood to go to see that special 

That night, as he sat with his wife in front of the 
grate fire in the sitting-room, she said to him, 
Jinnie being in bed, — 

'i Thomas, does thee think there would be any 
harm in giving Virginia a little pleasure on the 
25th of this month?" 

" How does thee mean, Rachel ? " 

" Well, she seems to have her little head filled 
with nonsense about Kris Kingle and Christmas, 
and as the poor child has had a life so full of mis- 
ery, I thought, perhaps, we might — " 

" Thee does n't mean to keep Christmas in this 
house, does thee ? " 

" Not exactly that, but — " 

" What would Friends say if we should do that ? " 

" No ; but there can be no harm in giving the 
poor child some playthings, and we may as well 
give them upon one day as another." 

" What kind of playthings would thee give 

" Why not buy her a doll } She seemed to like 
that doll at Thomas Smith's store very much." 

332 JINNIE. 

"But, Rachel, that doll was dressed in a most 
worldly manner. Ought we to risk filling the 
child's mind with vain and frivolous notions about 
dress ? " 

" She has hardly had a chance to feed her vanity 
in that manner thus far." 

"Thee would be willing, then," said Thomas, " to 
buy for her that gaily-dressed doll ? " 

" I think I would ; just this once." 

" Well," said Thomas, slowly, " I am glad to hear 
thee say so, because to-day I bought that very 
doll." And he produced it from a bundle that he 
took from under the sofa. 

Kris Kingle came to Jinnie that Christmas eve, 
and in the morning her joy as she clasped the doll 
in her arms was so great that she could not express 
it. While she was at the breakfast table Thomas 
Elwood was called to the parlor to see a visitor. 
Presently he summoned Jinnie, and when Jinnie 
came into the room she was startled to see Mrs. 
Tyke. It flashed across her mind that Mrs. Tyke 
had come to take her away, and she began to cry. 
Thomas Elwood comforted her. Mrs. Tyke had 
come to beg for mercy. She wished to escape 

Thomas turned to Jinnie and said, — 

"Virginia, this is the woman who has done thee 
so much harm. I can have her punished if I 

JINNIE. 333 

wish. What would thee do to her if thee had 

thy way ? " 

" I would forgive her," said Jinnie, timidly. 

It seemed as if Jinnie had been visited also by 

the real Kris Kingle. Mrs. Tyke was permitted to 

go unpunished. 

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